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THE ART OF ENTERTAINING

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THE

ART OF ENTERTAINING

BY

M. E. W. SHERWOOD

This night
Beneath my roof my dearest friends I entertain

Homer

NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY

1893

Copyright, 1892,
By Dodd, Mead and Company.

All rights reserved.

55^^

5aittbprsitij press:
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge.

With a grateful recognitioti of his services to
"STfte ^rt of 3£nt£rtainin0,"

Both at home and abroad, and with a profound respect for his wit,
eloquence., and learning, this book is dedicated

TO

THE HON. CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW,

By his Friend, the Author.

PREFACE.

TN America the art of entertaining as compared
with the same art in England, in France, in Italy
and in Germany may be said to be in its infancy.
But if it is, it is a very vigorous infant, perhaps a
little overfed. There is no such prodigality of food
anywhere nor a more genuinely hospitable people
in the world than those descendants of the Pilgrims
and the Cavaliers who peopled the North and
South of what we are privileged to call the United
States. Exiles from Fatherland taught the Indians
the words ''Welcome!" and "What Cheer?" —
a beautiful and a noble prophecy. Well might
it be the motto for our national shield. We, who
welcome to our broad garden-lands the hungry
and the needy of an overcrowded old world, can
well appropriate the legend.

No stories of that old Biblical world of the
patriarchs who lived in tents have been forgotten
in the New World. The Western settler who placed
before his hungry guest the last morsel of jerked

VI PREFACE.

meat, or whose pale, overworked wife broiled the
fish or the bird which had just fallen before his
unerring gun, — these people had mastered in their
way the first principle in the art of entertaining.
They have the hospitality of the heart. From that
meal to a Newport dinner what an infinite series of
gradations !

Perhaps we may help those on the lower rungs
of the ladder to mount from one to the other.
Perhaps we may hint at the poetry, the romance,
the history, the literature of entertaining; perhaps
with practical hints of how to feed our guests we
may suggest where meat faileth to feed the soul,
and where intellect, wit, and taste come in.

American dinners are pronounced by foreign
critics as overdone. The great too much is urged
against us. We are a wasteful people as to food ;
we should learn an elegant and a wise economy.
In a French family, eggs and lumps of sugar are
counted. Economy is a part of the art of enter-
taining ; if judiciously studied it is far from niggard-
liness. Such economy leads to judicious selection.

One has but to read the Odes of Horace to learn
how much of the mind can be appropriately de-
voted to the art of entertaining. Milton does not
disdain, in Paradise Lost, to give us the menu of
Eve's dinner to the Angel. We find in all great
poets and historians stories of great feasts. And

PREFACE. Vll

with us in the nineteenth century, dinner is not
alone a thing of twelve courses, it is the bright
consummate flower of the day, which brings us all
together from our various fields of work. It is the
open sesame of the soul, the hour of repose, of
amusement, of innocent hilarity, — the hour which
knits up the ravelled sleeve of care. The body is
carefully apparelled, the mind swept and garnished,
the brain prepared for fresh impress. It is said
that no important political movement was ever
inaugurated without a dinner, and we may fanci-
fully state that no great poem, no novel, no philo-
sophical treatise, but has been made or marred by
a dinner.

There is much entertaining, however, which is
not eating. We do not gorge ourselves, as in the
days of Dr. Johnson, until the veins in the forehead
swell to bursting, but perhaps we are just as far
from those banquets which Horace describes, — a
glass of Falernian, a kid roasted, a bunch of grapes,
and a rose, with good talk afterward. We have
not mingled enough of the honey of Hymettus
with our cookery.

Lady Morgan described years ago a dinner at
Baron Rothschild's in Paris where the fineness of
the napery, the beauty of the porcelain and china,
the light, digestible French dishes, seemed to her a
great improvement on the heaviness of an English

Vlll PREFACE.

dinner. That one paper is said to have altered the
whole fabric of English dinner-giving. English
dinners of to-day are superlatively good and agree-
able in the best houses, and although national
English cookery is not equal to that on the other
side of the Channel, perhaps we could not have a
better model to follow. We can compass an '' all
round " mastery of the art of entertaining if we
choose.

It is not alone the wealth of America which can
assist us, although wealth is a good thing. It is
our boundless resource, and the capability, spirit,
and generosity of our people. Venice alorfe at
one imperial moment of her success had such a
chance as we have ; she was free, she was indus-
trious, she was commercial, she was rich, she was
artistic. All the world paid her tribute. And we
see on her walls to-day, fixed there by the pencils'
of Tintoretto and Titian, what was her idea of the
art of entertaining. Poetry, painting, and music
were the hand-maidens of plenty ; they wait upon
those Godlike men and those beautiful women.
It is a saturnalia of colour, an apotheosis of
plenty with no vulgar excess, with no slumberous
repletion. ** T is but the fool who loves excess,"
says our American Horace in his " Ode to an Old
Punch Bowl."

When we read Charles Lamb's " Essay on Roast

PREFACE. IX

Pig," Brillat Savarin's grave and witty '' Physiologie
du Gout," Thackeray's " Fitz Boodle's Professions,"
Sydney Smith's poetical recipe for a salad ; when
we read Disraeli's description of dinners, or the
immortal recipes for good cheer which Dickens has
scattered through his books, we learn how much
the better part of dinner is that which we do not
eat, but only think about. What a liberal education
to hear the late Samuel Ward talk about good din-
ners ! Variety not vegetables, manners not meat,
was his motto. He invested the whole subject
with a sort of classic elegance and a humorous
sense of responsibility. Anacreon and Charles
Delmonico seemed to mingle in his brain, and one
would gladly now be able to dine with him and
Longfellow at their yearly Christmas dinner.

. Cookery books, receipts, and menus are apt to be
of little use to young housekeepers before they
have mastered the great art of entertaining. Then
they are like the system of logarithms to the
mariner. Almost all young housekeepers are at
sea without a chart. A great, turbulent ocean of
butchers, bakers and Irish servants swim before
their eyes. How grapple with that important
question, "How shall I give a dinner?" Who
can help them? Shall we try?

•CONTENTS.

PAGB

Our American Resources and Foreign Allies. 13

The Hostess 22

Breakfast o 35

The Lunch 49

Afternoon Tea 59

The Intellectual Components of a Dinner . 68

Conscientious Diners 79

Various Modes of Gastronomical Gratifica-
tion 94

Soups 105

Fish 113

Salad 124

Desserts 134

German Eating and Drinking 143

The Influence* of Good Cheer on Authors

AND Geniuses 152

Bonbons 162

Famous Menus and Receipts 176

Cookeries and Wines of Southern Europe . 185

Some Oddities in the Art of Entertaining . 197

xii CONTENTS.

PAGE

The Servant Question 206

Something About Cooks 221

Furnishing a Country House 233

•Entertaining in a Country House 241

A Picnic 253

Pastimes of Ladies 260

Private Theatricals 271

Hunting and Shooting 280

Golf 288

Games 299

Archery 313

The Season — Balls and Receptions .... 321

Weddings 33i

How Royalty Entertains 340

Entertaining at Easter 353

How TO Entertain Children . . » 361

Christmas and Children 371

Certain Practical Suggestions 381

The Comparative Merits of American and

Foreign Modes of Entertaining . . . 389

THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

OUR AMERICAN RESOURCES, AND FOREIGN
ALLIES.

"Let observation, with extensive view,
Survey mankind from China to Peru."

THE amount of game and fish which our great
country and extent of sea-coast give us, the
variety of climate from Florida to Maine, from San
Francisco to Boston, which the remarkable net-work of
our railway communication allows us to enjoy, — all this
makes the American market in any great city almost
fabulously profuse. Then our steamships bring us fresh
artichokes from Algiers in mid-winter, and figs from the
Mediterranean, while the remarkable climate of California
gives us four crops of delicate fruits a year.

There are those, however, who find the fruits of
California less finely flavoured than those of the Eastern
States. The peaches of the past are almost a lost flavour,
even at the North. The peach of Europe is a different
and far inferior fruit. It lacks that essential flavour
which to the American palate tells of the best of fruits.

It may be well, for the purposes of gastronomical history,
to narrate the variety of the larder in the height of the
season, of a certain sea-side club-house, a few years ago :

14 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

"The season lasted one hundred and eighty days,
during which time from eighty thousand to ninety thou-
sand game-birds, and eighteen thousand pounds of fish
were consumed, exclusive of domestic poultry, steaks
and chops. On busy days twenty-four kinds of fish, all
fit for epicures, embracing turbot, Spanish mackerel,
sea trout ; the various kinds of bass, including that
gamest of fish the black bass, bonito from the Gulf of
Mexico, the purple mullet, the weakfish, chicken halibut,
sole, plaice, the frog, the soft crab from the Chesapeake,
were served. Here, packed tier upon tier in glistening
ice, were some thirty kinds of birds in the very ecstasy
of prime condition, and all ready prepared for the cook.
Let us enumerate ' this royal fellowship of game.' There
were owls from the North (we might call them by some
more enticing name), chicken grouse from Illinois, chicken
partridge, Lake Erie black and summer ducks and teal,
woodcock, upland plover (by many esteemed as the
choicest of morsels), dough-birds, brant, New Jersey
millet, godwit, jack curlew, jacksnipe, sandsnipe, rock-
snipe, humming-birds daintily served in nut-shells, golden
plover, beetle-headed plover, redbreast plover, chicken
plover, seckle-bill curlew, summer and winter yellow-legs,
reed-birds and rail from Delaware (the latter most highly
esteemed in Europe, where it is known as the ortolan),
ring-neck snipe, brown backs, grass-bird, and peeps."

Is not this a hst to make " the rash gazer wipe his eye " ?

And to show our riches and their poverty in the matter
of game, let us give the game statistics of France for one
September. There are thirty thousand communes in
France, and in each commune there were killed on the
average on September i, ten hares, — total, three hun-
dred thousand ; seventeen partridges, — total, five huu-

OUR AMERICAN RESOURCES, ETC. 1$

dred and ten thousand ; fourteen quail, — total, four
hundred and twenty thousand; one rail in each com-
mune,— thirty thousand total as to rails. That was all
France could do for the furnishing of the larder; of
course she imports game from Savoy, Germany, Norway,
and England. And oh, how she can cook them !

Woodcock, it is said, should be cooked the day it is
shot, or certainly when fresh. Birds that feed on or
near the water should be eaten fresh; so should snipe
and some kinds of duck. The canvasback alone bears
keeping, the others get fishy.

Snipe should be picked by hand, on no account drawn ;
that is a practice worthy of an Esquimaux. Nor should
any condiment be cooked with woodcock, save butter or
pork. A piece of toast under him, to catch his fragrant
gravy, and the delicious trail should alone be eaten with
the snipe ; but a bottle of Chambertin may be drunk to
wash him down.

The plover should be roasted quickly before a hot fire ;
nor should even a pork jacket be appUed if one wishes
the dehcious juices of the bird alone. This bird should
be served with water-cresses.

Red wine should be drunk with game, — Chambertin,
Clos de Vougeot, or a sound Lafitte or La Tour claret.
Champagne is not the wine to serve with game ; that
belongs to the filet. With beef braise a glass of good
golden sherry is allowable, but not champagne. The deep
purple, full-bodied, velvety wines of the Cote d'Or, — the
generous vintages of Burgundy, — are in order. Indeed
these wines always have been in high renown. They are
passed as presents from one royal personage to another,
like a cordon d'honneiir. Burgundy was the wine of
nobles and churchmen, who always have had enviable
palates.

1 6 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Chambertin is a lighter kind of Volnay and the vin
veloute par excellence of the Cote d'Or. It was a great
favourite with Napoleon I. To considerable body it
unites a fine flavour and a suave bouquet of gx^2X finesse,
and does not become thin with age like other Burgundies.
As for the Clos de Vougeot, its characteristics are a rich
ruby colour, velvety softness, a delicate bouquet, which
has a slight suggestion of the raspberry. It is a strong
wine, less refined in flavour than the Chambertin, and
with a suggestion of bitterness. It was so much admired
by a certain military commander that while marching
his regiment to the Rhine he commanded his men to
halt before the vineyard and salute it. They presented
arms in its honour.

Chateau Lafitte, renowned for its magnificent colour,
exquisite softness, delicate flavour, and fragrant bouquet,
recalling almonds and violets, is one of the wines of the
Gironde, and is supposed of late to have deteriorated in
quality ; but it is quite good enough to command a high
price and the attention of connoisseurs.

Chateau La Tour, a grand Medoc claret, derives its
name from an existing ancient, massive, round tower,
which the English assailed and defended by turns during
the wars in Guienne. It has a pronounced flavour, and
a powerful bouquet, common to all wines of the Gironde.
It reminds one of the odour of almonds, and of Noyau
cordials.

• These vineyards were in great repute five centuries
ago ; and it would be delightful to pursue the history of
the various crus, did time permit. The Cos d'Estoumet
of the famous St. Estephe crus is stiU made by the
peasants treading out the grapes, foule a pied, to the
accompaniment of pipes and fiddles as in the days of
Louis XIV.

OUR AMERICAN RESOURCES, ETC. 1/

We will mention the two premiers grands crus of the
Gironde, the growth of the ancient vineyards of Leoville
and the St. Julian wines, distinguished by their odour of
violets.

Thackeray praises Chambertin in verse more than
once : —

•* ' Oui, oui, Monsieur,' 's the waiter's answer ;
' Quel vin Monsieur desire-t-il ? '
* Tell me a good one.' — ' That I can, sir :
The Chambertin, with yellow seal.'"

Then again he speaks of dipping his gray beard in the
Gascon wine 'ere Time catches him at it and Death
knocks the crimson goblet from his lips.

In countries where wine is grown there is little or no
drunkenness. It is to be feared that drunkenness is
increased by impure wines. It is shocking to read of
the adulterations which first-class wines are subjected to,
or rather the adulterations which are called first-class
wines.

Wilkie Collins has a hit at this in his "No Name,"
where he makes the famous Captain Wragge say, " We
were engaged at the time in making, in a small back
parlour in Brompton, a fine first-class sherry, sound in the
mouth, tonic in character, and a great favourite with the
Court of Spain."

Our golden sherry, our Chambertin, our Chateau La-
fitte is said often to come from the vineyards of Jersey
City and the generous hillsides of Brooklyn ; and we
might perhaps quote from the famous song of "The
Canal": —

" The tradesmen who in liquor deal.
Of our Canal good use can make ;
And when they mean their casks to fill.
They oft its water freely take.
2

1 8 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

By this device they render less
The ills that spring from drunkenness ;
For harmless is the wine, you '11 own.
From vines that in canals is grown."

A large proportion of the so-called foreign wines sol;l
in America are of American manufacture. The medium
grade clarets and so-called Sauternes are made in Cali-
fornia, in great quantities. Our Senator, Leland Stanford,
makes excellent wines. On the islands of Lake Erie,
the lake region of Central New York, and along the
banks of the Ohio and Missouri Rivers, are vineyards
producing excellent wines. An honest American wine is
an excellent thing to drink; and yet it disgusted
Commodore McVicker, who was entertained in London
as President of our Yacht Club, to be asked to drink
American wines. Yet the Catawbas, " dulcet, delicious
and creamy," are not to be despised ; neither are the
sweet and dry California growths.

The indigenous wines which come from Ohio, Iowa,
Missouri and Mississippi are likely to be musty and foxy,
and are not pleasant to an American taste. The Cataw-
bas are pleasant, and are of three colours, — rose colour,
straw colour, and colourless, if that be a colour. In
taste they are like sparkling Moselle, but fuller to the
palate.

The wine produced from the Isabella grape is of a
decided raspberry flavour. The finest American wines
are those produced from the vines known as Norton's
Virginia and the Cynthiana. The former produces a
well-blended, full-bodied, deep-coloured, aromatic, and
almost astringent wine ; the second, — probably the finer
of the two, — is a darker, less astringent, and more
delicate product.

OUR AMERICAN RESOURCES, ETC. IQ

Among "the American red wines may be mentioned
the product of the Schuylkill oSIuscadel, which was the
only esteemed growth in the country previous to the
cultivation of the Catawba grape, being in fact ambi-
tiously compared to the cnis of the Gironde. It was a
bitter, acidulous wine, little suited to the American palate,
and invariably requiring an addition of either sugar or
alcohol.

Longfellow sings of the wine of the Mustang grape of
Texas and New Mexico : —

" The fiery flood
Of whose purple blood
Has a dash of Spanish bravado."

The Carolina Scuppernong is detestable, reminding us
of the sweet and bitter medicines of childhood. The
Herbemont, a rose-tinted wine is very like Spanish
Manganilla.

Longfellow says of sparkling Catawba, that it *' fills
the room with a benison on the giver." It has, indeed,
a charming bouquet, as says the poet.

The name of Nicholas Longworth is intimately con-
nected with the subject of American wines. To him will
ever be given all honour, as being the father of this
industry in the New World ; but the superior excellence
of the California wines has driven the New York and
Ohio wines, it is said, to a second place in the market.

In the expositions of 1889 at Paris, and in Melbourne,
silver medals were awarded to the Inglenook wines, which
are of the red claret, burgundy and Medoc type ; also
white wines, — Sauterne Chasselas, and Hock, Chablis,
Riesling, etc.

The right soil for the cultivation of the grape is a hard
thing to find ; but Captain Niebaum, a rich California

20 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

grower, has hit the key-note, when he says, " I have no
wish to make any money out of my vineyard by produc-
ing a large quantity of wine at a cheap or moderate
price. I am going to make a Cahfornia wine which, if it
can be made, will be worthily sought for by connoissetirs ;
and I am prepared to spend all the money needed to
accomplish that result." He says frankly that he has not
yet produced the best wine of which California is capa-
ble, but that he has succeeded in producing a better wine
than many of the foreign wines sold in America. He
might have added that hogsheads of California grape-
juice are sent annually to Bordeaux to be doctored, and
returned to America as French claret.

The misfortunes of the vine-grower in Europe, the
ruin of acres of grape-producing country by the phyloxera,
should be the opportunity for these new vine-growers in
the United States. It is only by travel, experiment, and
by a close study of the methods of the foreign wine-
growers that a Californian can possibly make himself a
vineyard which shall be successful. He must induce
Nature to sweeten his wines, and he can then laugh
at the chemist.

Of vegetables we have not only all that Europe can
boast, excepting perhaps the artichoke, but we have
some in constant use and of great excellence which they
have not. For instance, sweet corn boiled or roasted
and eaten from the cob with butter and salt is unknown
in Europe. They have not the sweet potato, so deli-
cious when baked. They have not the pumpkin-pie
although they have the pumpkin. They have egg-plant
and cauliflower and beans and peas, but so have we.
They have bananas, but never fried, which is a negro
dish, and excellent. They have not the plantain, good

OUR AMERICAN RESOURCES, ETC. 21

baked, nor the avocado or alligator pear, which fried
in butter or oil is so admirable. They have not the
ochra, of which the negro cooks make such excellent
gumbo soup. They have all the salads, and use sorrel
much more than we do. They do not cook summer squash
as we do, nor have they anything to equal it. They use
vegetables always as an entree, not served with the meat,
unless the vegetable is cooked with the meat, like beef
stewed in carrots, turnips, and onions, veal and green
peas, veal with spinach, and so on. The peas are passed
as an entree, so is the cauliflower, the beet-root, and the
turnips. They treat all vegetables as we do corn and as-
paragus, as a separate course. For asparagus we must
give the French the palm, particularly when they serve it
with Hollandaise sauce ; and the Italians cook cauUflower
with cheese, a ravir.

THE HOSTESS.

* A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food ;
For transient sorrow, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

THE " house -mother," — the mistress of servants,
the wife, the mother, the hostess, — is the first
person in the art of entertaining ; and considering how
busy, how hard worked, how occupied, are American
men, she is generally the first person singular. ( In nine
Cases out of ten, American men neither know nor care
much about the conduct of the house if the wife will
assume it ; they only like to be made comfortable, and
to find a warm, clean home, with a good dinner await-
ing them. It is the wife who must struggle with the
problems of domestic defeat or victory.

When Washington Irving was presented at the Court
of Dresden his Saxon Majesty remarked, " Mr. Irving,
with a republic so liberal, you can have no servants in
America."

" Yes, Sire, we have servants, such as they are," said the
amiable author of the '• Sketchbook ; " " but we do not
call them servants, we call them help."

" I cannot understand that," said the king.

The king's mental position was not illogical ; for, with
bis experience of the servile position of the domestic in

THE HOSTESS. 23

Europe, he could not reconcile to his mind the declara-
tion of social equality in America.

The American hostess must, it would seem, for many
centuries if not forever, have to struggle against this diffi-
culty. As some writer said twenty years ago, of this
question : " Rich as we are in money, profuse in spend-
ing it to heighten the enjoyment of life, the good servant,
that essential of comfort and luxury, seems beyond our
reach. Superfine houses we have, and superfine furni-
ture, and superfine ladies, and all the other superfineties
to excess, but the skilful cook, the handy maid, and the
trusty nurse we rarely possess."

Thus, afar from the great cities and even in them, we
must forge the instruments with which we work, instead
of finding them ready to hand, as in other countries.
That is to say, the mistress of a household must teach her
cook to cook, her waiter to wait, her laundress to get up
fine linen. She is happy if she can get honest people
and willing hands, but trained servants she durst not ex-
pect away from the great centres of Hfe.

Considering what has been expected of the Amer-
ican woman, has she not done rather well ? That she
must be first servant-trainer, then housekeeper, wife,
mother, and conversationist, that she must keep up with
the always advancing spirit of the times, read, write, and
cipher, be beautifully dressed, play the piano, make the
wilderness to blossom as the rose, be charitable, thought-
ful, and good, put the mind at its ease, strive to learn how
to do all things in the best way, be a student of good
taste and good manners, make a house luxurious, orna-
mental, cheerful, and restful, have an inspired sense of
the fitness of things, dress and entertain in perfect accord
with her station, her means, and her husband's ambition,

24 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

master, unassisted, all the ins and outs of the noble art
of entertaining, — has not this been something of the
nature of a large contract?

^ She must go to the cooking-lecture, come home and
visit the kitchen, go to the intelligence office, keeping
her hand on all three. She must be the mind, while the
Maggies and Bridgets furnish the hands. She must
never be fussy, never grotesque ; she must steer her ship
through stormy seas, and she must also learn to enjoy
Wagner's music. There is proverbially no sea so dan-
gerous to swim in as that tumultuous one of a new and
illy regulated prosperity; and in the changeful, uncer-
tain nature of American fortunes an American woman
must be ready to meet any fate. .;

Judging from many specimens which we have seen,
may we not claim that the American woman must be
stamped with an especial distinction ? Has she not
conquered her fate ?

Curiously enough, fashion and good taste seem to
lackey to the American woman, no matter where she was
born or where educated. In spite of all drawbacks, and
the counter-currents of destiny, she is a well bred and
tasteful woman. No matter what the American woman
has to fight against, poverty or lack of opportunities, she
is likely, if she is called upon to do so, to administer
gracefully the hospitalities of the White House or to fill
the difficult role of an ambassadress.

Some of them have bad taste perhaps. " What is good
taste but an instantaneous, ready appreciation of the fit-
ness of things ? " To most of us who observe it in others,
it seems to be an instinct. We envy those few who are
always well dressed, who never buy unbecoming stuffs,
who have the gift to make their clothes look as if they

THE HOSTESS. 5$

had simply blossomed out of their inner consciousness, as
a rose blossoms out of its calyx. Some women always dress
their hair becomingly; others, even if handsome, look
like beautiful frights. Some wear their clothes as if they
had been hurled at them by a tornado, and remind one
of the poor husband's remark, " I feel as if I had married
a hurricane." The same exceptions, which only prove
the rule, because you notice them, may extend to the
housewives who aim at more than they can accomplish,
who make their house an anguish to look at, preten-
tious without beauty, overloaded or incorrect, who have
not tact, who say the awkward thing. Such people
exist sometimes, sinning from ignorance, but they are
decidedly in the minority. The American woman is
generally a success. She has fought a hard battle, but
she has won. She has had her defeats, however.

Who does not remember the failure of that first
dinner-party ? — when the baby began to cry so loud ;
when the hostess was not dressed when the bell rang ;
when the cook spilled the soup all over the range and
filled the house with a bad odour; when the waitress,
usually so cool, lost all her presence of mind and fell on
the basement stairs, breaking all the plates ; when one
failure succeeded another until the husband looked
reproachfully at his wife, who, poor creature, had been
working day and night to get up this dinner, who was
responsible for none of the failures, and who had an
attack of neuralgia afterward which lasted all winter.

Who has not read Thackeray's witty descriptions of
the dinners, poor and pretentious, ordered in from the
green-grocer's, and uneatable, — in London ? " If they
would have a leg of mutton and an apple pudding and a
glass of sherry, they could do well; but they must shine,

26 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

they must outdo their neighbours." And that is the first
mistake. People with three thousand a year should not
try to emulate those who have fifty thousand a year.

And Thackeray says again : *' But there is no harm
done, not as regards the dinner-givers, though the dinner-
eaters may have to suffer. It only shows that the former
are hospitably inclined, and wish to do the very best in
their power. If they do badly, how can they help it?
They know no better."

The first thing at which a young housekeeper must
aim is to live well every day. Her tablecloth must be
fresh, her glass and silver clean ; a few flowers must be on
her table to make it dainty, a few dishes well cooked, —
such a table as will be well for her children and accept-
able to her husband ; and then she has but to add a little
more and it is fit for any guest, and any guest will be
glad to join such a dinner-party.

But here I am met by the almost unanswerable argu-
ment that the simplest dinner is the most difficult to
find. Who knows how to cook a beefsteak, to roast a
piece of mutton so that its natural juices are retained,
— to roast it so that the blood shall follow the knife ; to
mash potatoes and brown them ; to make a perfect rice-
pudding that is said to " deserve that cordon bleu which
Vatel, Ude, and Bechamel craved " ?

The young housekeeper of to-day with very modest
means has, however, now to meet a condition of pros-
perity which even twenty-five years ago was unknown.
xAll extremes of luxury and every element of profusion is
now fashionable, — one may say expected.

But agreeable young people will be entertained by the
man who is worth fifty thousand dollars a day, and they
will wish to return the civility. Herein lie the difiicul-

THE HOSTESS. 2/

ties in the art of entertaining ; but let them remember
that there is one simple dinner which covers the whole
ground, which the poor gentleman may aspire to give,
and to which he might invite a prince. The essentials
of a comfortable dinner are but few. The beauty of a
Grecian vase without ornament is perfect. You may add
cameo and intaglio, vine, acanthus leaf, satyrs, and fauns,
handles of ram's horns and circlet of gems to your vase
if you wish, and are rich enough, but unless the outline
is perfect the splendour and the arabesque but render the
vase vulgar. So with the simple dinner ; it is the Grecian
vase unadorned.

Remember that rich people, stifled with luxury at
home, like to be asked to these dinners. A lady in
England, very much admired for her witty conversation,
said she intended to devote herself to the amelioration
of the condition of the upper classes, as she thought
them the most bored and altogether the least attended
to of any people ; and we have heard of the rich man in
New York who complained that he was no longer asked
to the little dinners. There is too much worship and
fear of money in our country. In England and on the
Continent there is no shame in acknowledging, " I cannot
afford it." I have been asked to a luncheon in England
where a cold joint of mutton, a few potatoes, and a
plate of peaches constituted the whole repast ; and I have
heard more delightful conversation and have met more
agreeable people than at more expensive feasts. Who
in America would dare to give such a lunch?

The simple dinner might be characterized, giving the
essentials, as a soup, a fish, a roast, one entree, and a
salad, an ice and fruit (simply the fruit in season), a cup
Qf coffee afterward, with a glass of sherry, claret, or

28 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

champagne. Such a dinner is good enough for anybody,
and is possible to the person of moderate means.

From this up to the splendid dinners of millionnaires,
served on gold and silver and priceless Sevres, Dresden,
Japanese, and Chinese porcelain, with flagons of ruby
glass bound in gold, with Benvenuto Cellini vases, and
siis^er candelabra, the ascent may be gradual. In the
one the tablecloth is of spotless damask ; in the other it
may be of duchesse lace over red. The very mats are
mirrors, the crystal drops of the epergne flash like
diamonds. It may be served in a picture-gallery. Each
lady has a bouquet, a fan, a ribbon painted with her
name, a basket or bonbonniere to take home v/ith her.
The courses are often sixteen in number, the wines are
of fabulous value, antiquity, and age. Each drop is like
the River Pactolus, whose sands were of gold. The viands
may come from Algiers or St. Petersburg ; strawberries
and peaches in January, the roses of June in February,
fruit from the Pacific, from the Gulf, artichokes from
Marseilles, oranges and strawberries from Florida, game
from Arizona and Chesapeake Bay, mutton and pheas-
ants from Scotland, luxury from everywhere. The primal
condition of this banquet is, that everything should be
unusual.

But remember that, after all, it is only the Grecian
vase heavily ornamented. No one person can taste half
the dishes ; it takes a long time, and the room may be too
hot. The limitations of a dinner should be considered.
It is a splendid picture, no doubt, but it need not appall
the young hostess who desires to return the civility.

A vase of flowers or a basket of growing plants can re-
place the epergne. Some pretty dinner-cards may be
etched by herself, with a Shakspearean quotation show-

THE HOSTESS. 29

ing a personal thought of each guest. Her spotless
glass and silver, her good soup, her fresh fish, the
haunch of venison roasted before a wood fire, the salad
mixed by her own fair hands, perhaps a dessert over
which she has lingered, a bit of cheese, a cup of coffee,
a smiling host, a composed hostess, a congenial com-
pany, and wit withal, — who shall say that the little dinner
is not as amusing as the big dinner? To be composed :
yes, that is the first thing to be remembered on the part
of a young hostess. She may be essentially nervous and
anxious, particularly if she is just beginning to entertain,
but here she must resolutely put on a mask of composure,
and assume a virtue if she have it not. Nothing is of
much importance, excepting her own demeanor. A
fussy hostess who scolds the servants, wrinkles her brow,
or even forgets to listen to the man who is talking to her
is the ruin of a dinner. The author of " Cecil " tells his
niece that if stewed puppy-dog is brought to the table
she must not notice it. Few hostesses are subjected to
so severe an ordeal as this, but the remark contains a
goodly hint.

As, however, it is a great intellectual feat to achieve a
perfect little dinner with a small household and small
means, perhaps that form of entertaining may be post-
poned a few years. Never attempt anything which can-
not be well done. There is the afternoon tea, the musical
evening, the reception, the luncheon ; they are all easier
to give than the dinner. The young hostess ambitious to
excel in the art of entertaining can choose a thousand
ways. Let her alone avoid attempting the impossible ;
and let her remember that no success which is not hon-
estly gained is worth a pin. If it is money, it stings ; if
it is place and position, it becomes the shirt of Nessus,

30 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

But for the well mannered and well behaved American
woman what a noble success, what a perfect present,
what a delightful future there is ! She is the founder
of the American nobility. All men bow down to her.
She is the queen of the man who loves her ; he treats her
with every respect. She is to teach the future citizen
honour, loyalty, duty, respect, politeness, kindness, the law
of love. Such a man could read his Philip Sidney and yet
not blush to find himself a follower. An American
woman wields the only rod of empire to which American
men will bow. She should try to be an empress in the
best sense of the word ; and to a young woman entering
society we should recommend a certain exclusiveness.
Not snobbish exclusiveness ; but it is always well to
choose one's friends slowly and with due consideration.
We are not the most perfect beings in all the world ; we
do not wish to be intimate with too much imperfection.
( A broken friendship is a very painful thing.| We should
think twice before we give an intimate friendship to any
one. No woman who essays to entertain should ask
everybody to her house. The respect she owes to her-
self should prevent this ; her house becomes a camp
unless she has herself the power of putting a coarse sieve
outside the door.

We have no such inviolable virtue that we can as yet
rate Dives and Lazarus before they are dead. Very rich
people are apt to be very good people ; and in the realms
of the highest fashion we find the simplest, best, and
purest of characters. It is therefore of no consequence
as to the shade of fashion and the amount of the rent-
roll. It must not be supposed because some leaders of
fashion are insolent that all are. A young hostess must
try to find the good, true, honourable, generous, well bred^

THE HOSTESS. • $1

well educated member of society, no matter in what con-
ditions of life. Read character first, and hesitate before
drawing general deductions.

A hostess is the slave of her guests after she has in-
vited them ; she must be all attention, and all suavity.
If she has nothing to offer them but a small house, a cup
of tea, and a smile, she is just as much a hostess as if
she were a queen. If she offers them every luxury and
is not polite, she is a snob and a vulgarian. There is no
such detestable use of one's privileges as to be rude on
one's ground. " The man who eats your salt is sacred."
To patronize is a great necessity to some natures. There
is little opportunity for it in free, brave America, but
some mistaken hostesses have gone that way. Every
one feels pleasantly toward the woman who invites one
to her house ; there is something gracious in the act.
But if, after opening her doors, the hostess refuses the
welcome, or treats her guests with various degrees of
cordiality, why did she ask at all ? Every young Amer-
ican can become a model hostess ; she can master
etiquette, and create for herself a poHte and cordial
manner. She should be as serene as a summer's day ; she
should keep all her domestic troubles out of sight. If
she entertains, let her do it in her own individual way, —
a small way if necessary. There was much in Touchstone's
philosophy, — "a poor thing, but mine own." She must
have the instinct of hospitality, which is to give pleasure
to all one's guests ; and it seems unnecessary to say to
any young American hostess, Noblesse oblige. She should
be more polite to the shy, ill- dressed visitor from the
country — if indeed there is such a thing left in America,
where, as Bret Harte says, " The fashions travel by tele-
graph " — than to the sweeping city dame, that can take
care of herself. A kindly greeting to a gawky youth will

i± THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

never be forgotten; and it is to the humblest that a
hostess should address her kindest attentions.

There are born hostesses, like poets, but a hostess can
also be made, in which she has the advantage of the
poets ; and to the very wealthy hostess we should quote
this inestimable advice : —

Si tibi deficiant medici, medici tibi fiant
Haec tria : mens hilaris, requies, moderata diaeta.

Horace.

Do not over-feed people. Who is it that says, "If
simplicity is admirable in manners and in literary style,
in the matter of dinners it becomes exalted into one of
the cardinal virtues "?

The ambitious housewife would do well to remember
this when she cumbers herself, and thinks too much
about her forthcoming banquet. If she ignores this
principle of simplicity and falls into the opposite ex-
treme of ostentation and pretentiousness, she may bore
her guests rather than entertain them.

It is an incontestable fact that dinners are made elabo-
rate only at a considerable risk ; as they increase in size
and importance, their character is likely to deteriorate.
This is true not only with regard to the number of
guests, but with reference to the number of dishes that
go to make up a bill-of-fare.

In fact we, as Americans, generally err on the side of
having too much rather than too little. The terror of
running short is agony to the mind of the conscientious
housewife. How much will be enough and no more?
It stands to reason that the fewer the dishes, the more
the cook can concentrate her attention upon them ; and
here is reason for reducing the mem/ to its lowest terms.
Then to consult the proper gradation.

Brillat Savarin recounts a rather cruel joke perpe-

THE HOSTESS. 33

trated on a man who was a well-known gourmand. The
idea was that he should be induced to satisfy himself
with the more ordinary viands, and that then the choic-
est dishes should be presented in vain before his jaded
appetite. This treacherous feast began with a sirloin of
beef, a fricandeau of veal, and a stewed carp with stuffing.
Then came a magnificent turkey, a pike, six entremets^
and an ample dish of maccaroni and Parmesan cheese.
Nor was this all. Another course appeared, composed
of sweetbread, surrounded with shrimps in jelly, soft
roes, and partridge wings, with a thick sauce or puree of
mushrooms. Last of all came the delicacies, — snipes by
the dozen, a pheasant in perfect order, and with them a
slice of tunny fish, quite fresh. Naturally, the gourmand
was hors du combat. As a joke, it was successful ; as an
act of hospitality, it was a cruelty ; as pointing a moral
and adorning a tale, it may be useful.

This anecdote has its historical value as showing
us that the present procession of soup, fish, roast,
entree, game, and dessert was not observed one hun-
dred years ago, as a fish was served after beef and
after turkey.

Dr. Johnson describes a dinner at Mrs. Thrales which
shows us what was considered luxurious a hundred years
ago. " The dinner was excellent. First course : soups
at head and foot, removed by fish and a saddle of mut-
ton. Second course : a fowl they call galenan at head,
a capon larger than our Irish turkeys at foot. Third
course : four different ices, — pineapple, grape, raspberry,
and a fourth. In each remove four dishes ; the first
two courses served on massive plate."

These "gentlemen of England who live at home at
ease," these earls by the king's grace, viceroys of India,

3

34 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

clerks and rich commoners, would laugh at this dinner
to-day ; so would our clubmen, our diners at Delmonico's,
our millionnaires. Imagine the feelings of that chef who
received ten thousand a year, with absolute power of life
or death, with a wine-cellar which is a fortress of which
he alone knows the weakest spot, — what would he sa>'
to such a dinner?

But there are dinners where the gradation is perfect,
where luxury stimulates the brain as Chateau Yquem
bathes the throat. It would seem as if the Golden Age,
the age of Leo X. had come back; and our nine-
teenth century shows all the virtues of the art of en-
tertaining since the days of Lucullus, purified of the
enormities, including dining at eleven in the morning, of
the intermediate ages.

It must not be forgotten that this simplicity which
is so commended can only be obtained by the most
studied, artful care. As Gray's Elegy reads as the most
consummately easy and plain poetry in the world, so
that we feel that we have but to sit down at the writing-
desk and indite one exactly like it, we learn in giving a
little, simple, perfect dinner that its combinations must
be faultless. Gray wrote every verse of his immortal
poem over many times. The hostess who learns enough
art to conceal art in her simple dinner has achieved that
perfection in her art which Gray reached. Perfect and
simple cookery are, like perfect beauty, very rare.

However, if the art of entertaining makes hostesses,
hostesses must make the art of entertaining. It is for
them to decide the juste milieu between the not enough
and the great too much.

BREAKFAST.

Before breakfast a man feels but queasily,
And a sinking at the lower abdomen
Begins the day with indifferent omen.

Browning. — The Flight of the Dtuhess,
And then to breakfast with what appetite you have.

Shakspeare.

BREAKFxA.ST is a hard thing to manage in America,
particularly in a country-house, as people have
different ideas about eating a hearty meal at nine o'clock
or earlier. All who have lived much in Europe are apt
to prefer the Continental fashion of a cup of tea or coffee
in one's room, with perhaps an egg and a roll ; then to
do one's work or pleasure, as the case may be, and to
take the dejeuner a la fourchette at eleven or twelve.
To most brain-workers this is a blessed boon, for the
heavy American breakfast of chops, steaks, eggs, force-
meat balls, sausages, broiled chicken, stewed potatoes,
baked beans, and hot cakes, good as it is, is apt to render
a person stupid.

It would be better if this meal could be rendered less
heavy, and that a visitor should always be given the
alternative of taking a cup of tea in her room, and not
appearing until luncheon.

The breakfast dishes most to be commended may
begin with the omelet. This the French make to per-
fection. Indeed, Gustav Droz wrote a story once for the

36 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

purpose of giving its recipe. The story is of a young
couple lost in a forest, who take refuge in a wood-cutter's
hut. They ask for food, and are told that they can have
an omelet :

" The old woman had gone to fetch a frying-pan, and
was then throwing a handful of shavings on the fire.

" In the midst of this strange and rude interior Louise
seemed to me so fine and delicate, so elegant, with her
\orig gaitts de Suede, her little boots, and her tucked-up
skirts. With her two hands stretched out she sheltered
her face from the flames, and from the corner of her eye,
while I was talking with the splitters, she watched the
butter that began to sing in the frying-pan.

" Suddenly she rose, and taking the handle of the
frying-pan from the old woman's hand, * Let me help you
make the omelet,' she said. The good woman let go
the pan with a smile, and Louise found herself alone in
the position of a fisherman at the moment when his float
begins to bob. The fire hardly threw any light ; her eyes
were fixed on the liquid butter, her arms outstretched,
and she was biting her lips a little, doubtless to increase
her strength.

" ' It is a bit heavy for Madame's little hands,' said the
old man. ' I bet that it is the first time you ever made
an omelet in a wood-cutter's hut, is it not, my little
lady?'

" Louise made a sign of assent without removing her
eyes from the frying-pan.

" ' The eggs ! the eggs ! ' she cried all at once, with
such an expression of alarm that we all burst out laugh-
ing. ' The eggs ! the butter is bubbling ! quick, quick ! '

'' The old woman was beating the eggs with animation.
' And the herbs ! ' cried the old man. * And the bacon,

BREAKFAST. 37

and the salt,* said the young man. Then we all set to
work, chopping the herbs and cutting the bacon, while
Louisa cried, ' Quick ! quick ! '

" At last there was a big splash in the frying-pan, and
the great act began. We all stood around the fire
watching anxiously, for each having had a finger in the
pie, the result interested us all. The good old woman,
kneeling down by the dish, lifted up with her knife the
corners of the omelet, which was beginning to brown.

" ' Now Madame has only to turn it,' said the old
woman.

" ' A little sharp jerk,' said the old man.

" ' Not too strong,' said the young man.

" ' One jerk ! houp ! my dear,' said I.

" ' If you all speak at once I shall never dare ; besides,
it is very heavy, you know — '

" ' One little sharp jerk — '

" ' But I cannot — it will all go into the fire — oh ! '

** In the heat of the action her hood had fallen ; she
was red as a peach, her eyes glistened, and in spite of
her anxiety, she burst out laughing. At last, after a
supreme effort, the frying-pan executed a rapid move-
ment and the omelette rolled, a little heavily I must
confess, on the large plate which the old woman held.

" Never was there a finer-looking omelet."

This is an excellent description of the dish which is
made for you at every little cabaret in France, as well as
at the best hotels. That dexterous turn of the wrist by
which the omelet is turned over is, however, hard to
reach. Let any lady try it. I have been taken into the
kitchen in a hotel in the Riviera to see a cook who was
so dexterous as to turn the frying-pan over entirely,
without spilling the omelet.

38 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

However, they are innumerable, the omelet family,
plain, and with parsley, the fancy omelet, ana the
creamy omelet. Learn to make every sort from any
cooking-book, and your family will never starve.

Conquer the art of toasting bacon with a fork ; it is a
fine relish for your egg, no matter how cooked. To fry
good English bacon in a pan until it is hard, is to disfigure
one of Fortune's best gifts.

Study above all things to learn how to produce good
toast ; not all the cooks in the great kingdom or empire
or republic of France (whatever it may be at this
minute) can produce a good slice of toast. They call
it J>ain roti, and well they may ; for after the poor bread
has been burned they put it in the oven and roast it.
No human being can eat it. It is taken away and
grated up for sawdust.

They make delicious toast in England, and in a few
houses in America. The bread should be a little stale,
the slice cut thin, the fire perfect, a toasting-fork should
hold it before coals, which are as bright as Juno's eyes.
It should be a delicate brown, dropped on a hot plate,
fresh butter put on at once, and then, ah ! 't would tempt
the dying anchorite to eat. Then conquer cream toast ;
and there is an exalted substance called Boston brown
bread which is delicious, toasted and boiled in milk.

Muffins are generally failures in these United States.
Why, after conquering the English, we cannot conquer
their muffins, I do not know. They are well worth
repeated efforts. We make up on our hot biscuits and
rolls; and as for our waffles, griddle -cakes, and Sally
Lunns, we distance competition. Do not believe that
they are unhealthy ! Nothing that is well cooked is
unhealthy to everybody ; and all things which are good

BREAKFAST. 39

are unhealthy to somebody. Every one must determine
for himself what is healthy and unhealthy.

A foreign breakfast in France consists of eggs in some
form, — frequently au beurre not?', which is butter melted
in a little vinegar and allowed to brown, — a stew of
vegetables and meat, a little cold meat (tongue, ham, or
cold roast beef,) a very good salad, a small dish of stewed
fruit 01 a little pastry, cheese, fruit, and coffee, and
always red wine.

Or perhaps an omelet or egg au plat (simply
dropped on a hot plate), mutton cutlets, and fried pota-
toes, perhaps stewed pigeons, with spinach or green
peas, or trout from the lake, followed by a beefsteak,
with highly flavoured Alpine strawberries or fresh apricots
or figs, then all eating is done for the day, until seven
o'clock dinner. This is of course the mid-day dejeihier
a la fourchette. At the earlier breakfast a Swiss hotel
offers only coffee, rolls, butter, and honey.

All sorts of stews — kidney, liver, chicken, veal, and
beef — are good, and every sort of httle pan-fish. In
our happy country we can add the oyster stew, or the
lobster in cream, the familiar sausage, and the hereditary
hash ; if any one knows how to make good corned-beef
hash she need not fear to entertain the king.

There are those who know how to broil a chicken, but
they are few, — " Amongst the few, the immortal names
which are not born to die." There are others, also few,
who know how to broil ham so that it will not be hard,
and on it to drop the egg so that it be like Saturn, — a
golden ball in a ring of silver.

Amongst the good dishes and cheap dishes which I
have seen served in France for a breakfast I recommend
lambs' feet in a white sauce, with a suspicion of onion.

40 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

All sorts of fricassees and warmed over things can be
made most deliciously for breakfast. Many people lite a
salt mackerel or a broiled herring for breakfast; ;liese
are good avant gouts, stimulating the appetite. The
Danes and Swedes have every form of dried fish, and
even some strange fowl served in this way. Dried beef
served up with eggs is comforting to some stomachs.
Smoked salmon appeals to others ; and people with an
ostrich digestion like toasted cheese or Welsh rarebits.
The fishball of our forefathers is a supreme delicacy if
well made, as is creamed codfish ; but warmed over pie,
or warmed over mutton or beef, are detestable. The
appetite is in a parlous state at nine o'clock and needs
to be tempted ; a bit of breakfast bacon, a bit of toast,
an ^gg, and a fresh slice of melon or a cold sliced
tomato in summer, voila tout! as the French say.
Begin with the melon or a plate of strawberries. These
early breakfasts at nine o'clock may be followed by the
hot cake, but later on the dejeuner a la fourchette, which
with us becomes luncheon, demands another order of
meal, as we have seen, more like a plain dinner.

It is a great comfort to the housekeeper, or to the
lady who has been imprisoned behind the tea and coffee
pot that she may serve thence a large family, to some-
times escape and have both tea and coifee served from
the side tables. Of course, for a small and intimate
breakfast there is nothing like the " steaming urn," and
the tea made by the lady at the table ; and the Hon.
Thomas H. Benton declared that he "liked to drink
his tea from a cup which had been washed by a lady."
Woman is the genius of the tea-kettle.

To make a good cup of coffee is a rare accomplishment.
Perhaps the old method is as good as any : a small

BREAKFAST. 4 1

cupfu! of roasted and ground coffee, one third Mocha
and two thirds Java, a small tgg, shell and all, broken
into the pot with the dry coffee. Stir well with a spoon
and then pour on three pints of boiling water ; let it
boil from five to ten minutes, counting from the time it
begins to boil. Then pour in a cupful of cold water,
and turn a little of the coffee into a cup to see that the
nozzle of the pot is not filled with grounds. Turn this
back, and let the coffee stand a few minutes to settle,
taking care that it does not boil again. The advantages
of boiled egg with coffee is, that the yolk gives a rich
flavour and good colour; also the shells and the white
keep the grounds in order, settUng them at the bottom
of the pot.

But the most economical and the easiest way of mak-
ing coffee is by filtering. The French coffee biggin
should be used. It consists of two cylindrical tin ves-
sels, one fitting into the other, the bottom of the upper
being a fine strainer. Another coarser strainer, with a
rod coming from the centre, is placed on this. Then
the coffee, which must be finely ground, is put in, and
another strainer is placed on the top of the rod. The
boiling water is poured on, and the pot set where it will
keep hot, but not boil, until the water has gone through.
This will make a clear, strong coffee with a rich, smooth
flavour.

The advantage of the two strainers is, that the one
coming next to the fine strainer prevents the grounds
from filling up the fine holes, and so the coffee is clear, —
a grand desideratum. Boiled milk should be served with
coffee for an early breakfast. Clear coffee, ca/e noi'r,
is served after dinner, and in France, always after the
twelve o'clock breakfast.

42

For a nine o'clock breakfast the hostess shou/d also
serve tea, and perhaps chocolate, if she has a large family
of guests, as all cannot drink coffee for breakfast.

Pigs' feet a la poulette find favour in Paris, and are
delicious as prepared there; also calf's liver i I'Alsa-
cienne. Chicken livers are very nice, and cod's tongues
with black butter cannot be surpassed. Mutton kidneys
with bacon are desirable, and all the livers and kidneys
en brochette with bacon, empaled on a spit, are excellent.
Hashed lamb a la Zingara is highly peppered and very
good.

Broiled fish, broiled chicken, broiled ham, broiled
steak and chops are always good for breakfast. The
gridiron made Saint Lawrence fit for heaven, and its
qualities have been elevating and refining ever since.

The summer breakfast can be very nice. Crab, clam,
lobster, — all are admirable. Fresh fish should be served
whenever one can get it. Devilled kidneys and broiled
bones do for supper, but fresh fish and easily digested
food should replace these heavier dainties for breakfast.

Stewed fruit is much used on the Continent at an early
breakfast. It is thought to avert dyspepsia. Americans
prefer to eat fruit fresh, and therefore have not learned
to stew it. Stewing is, however, a branch of cookery
well worth the attention of a first-class housekeeper. It
makes canned fruit much better to stew it with sugar.
Stewed cherries are delicious and very healthy ; and all
the berries, even if a little stale, can be stewed into a
good dish, as can the dried fruits, like prunes, etc.

Stewed pears make an elegant dessert served with
whipped cream ; but this is too rich for breakfast.
Baked pears with cream are sometimes offered, and eggs
in every form, — scrambled, dropped, boiled, stuffed, and

BREAKFAST. 43

even boiled hard, sliced and dressed as a salad. " What
is so good as an egg salad for a hungry person? " asked a
hostess in the Adirondacks who had nothing else to offer !
Eggs are the staple for breakfast.

Ham omelet with a little parsley, lamb chops with
green peas, tripe a la Bourdelaise, hashed turkey,
hashed chicken with cream, and breaded veal with
tomato sauce, calf's brains with a black butter, stewed
veal a la Chasseur, broiled shad's roe, broiled soft-
shell clams, minced tenderloin with Lyonnaise potatoes,
blue-fish au gratin, broiled steak with water-cress,
picked-up codfish, and smoked beef in cream are of the
thousand and one delicacies for the early breakfast, — if
one can eat them.

It is better to eat a saucer of oatmeal and cream at
nine o'clock, take a cup of tea, and do one's work ; then
at twelve to sit down to as good a breakfast as possible, —
a regular dejeuner a la foicrchette. The digestion is then
active ; the brain after several hours work needs repose,
and at one or two o'clock can go to work again like a
giant refreshed.

An early breakfast with meat is thought by foreign
doctors not to be good for children. But in France
they give children wine at a very early age, which is
rarely done in this country. At all boarding-schools and
hospitals wine is given to young children. Certainly
there are fewer drunkards and fewer dyspeptics in France
than in America.

Brillat Savarin says of coffee, "It is beyond doubt
that coffee acts upon the functions of the brain as an
excitant." Voltaire and Buffon drank a great deal of
coffee. If it deprives persons of sleep it should never
be taken. It is to many a poison ; and hospitals are full

44 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

of men maae cripples by the immoderate stimulus of
coffee. The Spanish people live and flourish on choco-
late ; introduced into Spain during the seventeenth
century, it crossed the Pyrenees with Anne of Austria,
daughter of Philip II. and wife of Louis XIII., and at
the commencement of the Regency was more in vogue
than coffee.

Many modern writers advise a good cup of chocolate
at breakfast as wholesome and easily digested, and it is
good for clergymen, lawyers, and travellers. In America
it is considered heavy and headachy ; and doubtless the
climate has something to do with this. Cocoa and the
lighter preparations of chocolate are good at sea, and
very comforting to those who find their nerves too much
on the alert to stand coffee or tea. Every one must con-
sult his own health and taste in this as in all matters.

The boldest attempts to increase the enjoyments of
the palate, or to tell people what they shall eat or drink,
are constantly overthrown by some subtile enemy in the
stomach; and breakfasts should especially be so light
that they can tickle the palate without disturbing the
brain. A red herring is a good appetizer.

" Meet me at breakfast alone,
And then I will give you a dish
Which really deserves to be known,
Though 't is not the genteelest of fish.
You must promise to come, for I said
A splendid red herring I 'd buy.
Nay, turn not aside your proud head ;
You '11 like it, I know, when you try.

" If moisture the herring betray,
Drain till from the moisture 't is free.
Warm it through in the usual way,
Then serve it for you and for me.

BREAKFAST. 45

A piece of cold butter prepare,

To rub it when ready it lies ;

Egg sauce and potatoes don't spare,

And the flavour will cause you surprise."

It is not only the man who has eaten a heavy supper
the night before ; it is not only the heavy drinker, al-
though brandy and soda are not the best of appetite pro-
vokers, so they say ; but it is also the brainworker who
finds it impossible to eat in the morning. For sleep has
the effect of eating. Who sleeps, eats, says the French
proverb; and we often find healthy children unwilling
to eat an early breakfast. Appetites vary both in indi-
viduals and at various seasons of the year. Nothing
can be more unwise than to make children eat when
they do not wish to do so. During the summer months
we are all of us less inclined for food than when sharp
set by hard exercise in the frosty air ; and we loathe in
July what we like in winter.

» The heavy domestic breakfast of steak and mutton-
chops in summer is often repellent to a dehcate child.
The perfection of good living is to have what you
want exactly when you want it. A slice of fresh melon,
a plate of strawberries, a thin slice of bread and butter
may be much better for breakfast in summer than the
baked beans and stewed codfish of a later season. Do
not force a child to eat even a baked potato if he does
not like it.

It is maintained by some that a strong will can keep
off sea-sickness or any other malady. This is a fallacy.
No strong will can make a delicate stomach digest a heavy
breakfast at nine o'clock. Therefore we begin and end
with the same idea, — breakfast is a hard thing to man-
age in America.

46 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

In England, however, it is a very happy-go-lucky
meal ; and although the essentials are on the table, peo-
ple are privileged to rise and help themselves from the
sideboard. I may say that I have never seen a fashion-
able EngUsh hostess at a nine o'clock breakfast, although
the meal is always ready for those who wish it.

For sending breakfasts to rooms, trays are prepared
with teapot, sugar, and cream, a plate of toast, eggs
boiled, with cup, spoon, salt and pepper, a little pat of
butter, and if desired a plate of chops or chicken, plates,
knives, forks, and napkins. For an English country-
house the supply of breakfast trays is like that of a
hotel. The pretty little Satsuma sets of small teapot,
cream jug, and sugar-bowl, are favourites.

When breakfast is served in the dining-room, a white
cloth is generally laid, although some ladies prefer vari-
ously coloured linen, with napkins to match. A vase of
flowers or a dish of fruit should be placed in the centre.
The table is then set as for dinner, with smaller plates„
and all sorts of pretty china, like an egg dish with a hen
sitting contentedly, a butter plate with a recumbent
cow, a sardine dish with fishes in Majolica, — in fact,
any suggestive fancy. Hot plates for a winter break-
fast in a plate-warmer near the table add much to the
comfort.

Finger bowls with napkins under them should be
placed on the sideboard and handed to the guest with
the fruit. It is a matter of taste as to whether fruit pre-
cedes or finishes the breakfast ; and the servant must
watch the decision of the guest.

A grand breakfast to a distinguished foreigner, oi
some great home celebrity at Delmonico's for instance,
would be, —

BREAKFAST. 47

A table loaded with flowers.
Oysters on the half-shell. Chablis.

Eggs stuffed. Eggs in black butter, {au beiirre noir).

Chops and green peas. Champagne.

Lyonnaise potatoes.
Sweetbreads. Spinach.

Woodcock. Partridges.

Salad of lettuce. Claret.

Cheese /tpz/fl'z/.
Dessert :
Charlotte Russe. Fruit Jelly. Ices.

Liqueurs.
Grapes. Peaches. Pears.

Coffee.

A breakfast even at twelve o'clock is thus made notice-
ably lighter than the meal called lunch. It may be intro-
duced by clam juice in cups, or bouillon, but is often
served without either. These breakfasts are generally
prefaced by a short reception, where all the guests are
presented to the foreigner of distinction. There is no
formality about leaving. Indeed, these breakfasts are
given in order to avoid that.

For an ordinary breakfast at nine o'clock in a family
of ten, we should say that the menu should be something
as follows : The host and hostess being present, the
lady makes the tea. Oatmeal and cream would then be
offered; after that a broiled chicken would be placed
before the host, which he carves if he can. An ome-
let is placed before the lady or passed ; stewed pota-
toes are passed, and toast or muffins. Hot cakes finish
this breakfast, unless fruit is also added. It is con-
sidered a very healthful thing to eat an orange before
breakfast. But who can eat an orange well? One

48 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

must go to Spain to see that done. The senorita cuts
off the rind with her silver knife. Then putting her fork
into the peeled fruit, she gently detaches small slices from
the pulp, leaving the core and seeds untouched ; passing
the fork upward, she detaches every morsel with her
pearly teeth, looking very pretty the while, and contrives
to eat the whole orange without losing a drop of the
juice, and lays down the core with the fork still in it.

It seems hardly necessary to say to an American lady
that she should be neatly dressed at breakfast. The
pretty white morning dresses which are worn in America
are rarely seen in Europe, perhaps because of the dif-
ference of climate. In England elderly ladies and
young married women sometimes appear in very smart
tea gowns of dark silk over a colour ; but almost always
the young ladies come in the yachting or tennis dresses
which they will wear until dinner-time, and almost al-
ways in summer, in hats. In America the variety of
morning dresses is endless, of which the dark jacket
over a white vest, the serviceable merino, the flannel,
the dark foulards, are favourites.

In summer, thin lawns, percales, Marseilles suits,

calicos, and ginghams can be so prettily made as to

rival all the other costumes for coquetry and grace.

" Still to be neat, still to be drest
As she were going to a feast,"

such should be the breakfast dress of the young matron.
It need not be fine ; it need not be expensive ; but it
should be neat and becoming. The hair should be
carefully arranged, and the feet either in good, stout
shoes for the subsequent walk, or in the natty stocking
and well fitting slipper, which has moved the poet to
such feeling verses,

THE LUNCH.

" A Gothic window, where a damask curtain
Made the blank daylight shadowy and uncertain;
A slab of agate on four eagle-talons
Held trimly up and neatly taught to balance ;
A porcelain dish, o'er which in many a cluster
Plump grapes hung down, dead ripe, and without lustre;
A melon cut in thin, delicious slices,
A cake, that seemed mosaic-work in spices ;
Two china cups, with golden tulips sunny,
And rich inside, with chocolate like honey ;
And she and I the banquet scene completing
With dreamy words, and very pleasant eating."

IF all lunches could be as poetic and as simple and as
luxurious as this, the hostess would have little trouble
in giving a lunch. But, alas ! from the slice of cold ham,
or chicken, and bread and butter, has grown the grand
hunt breakfast, and the ladies' lunch, most delicious of
luxurious time-killers. The lunch, therefore, has become
in the house of the opulent as elaborate as the dinner.

Twenty years ago in England I had the pleasure of
lunching with Lord Houghton, and I well remember the
simplicity of that meal. A cup of bouillon, a joint of
mutton, roasted, and carved by the host, a tart, some
peaches, very fine hot- house fruit, and a glass of sherry
was all that was served on a very plain table to twenty
guests. But what a company of wits, belles, and beauties
we had to eat it ! I once lunched with Browning on a
much simpler bill of fare. I have lunched at the beauti-
ful house of Sir John Millais on what might have been a

4

50 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

good family dinner with us. And I have lunched in
Hampton Court, in the apartments of Mr. Beresford,
now dead, who was a friend of George the Fourth and an
old Tory whipper-in, on a slice of cold meat, a cutlet, a
gooseberry tart, and some strawberries as large as toma-
toes from the garden which was once Anne Boleyn's.

What a great difference between these lunches and a
ladies' lunch in New York, which, laid for twenty-eight
people, offers every kind of wine, every luxury of fish,
flesh, and fowl, flowers which exhibit the most over-
whelming luxury of an extravagant period, fruits and bon-
bons and bonboimih'es, painted fans to carry home, with
ribbons on which is painted one's monogram, etc.

I have seen summer wild- flowers in winter at a ladies'
lunch, as the last concession to a fancy for what is un-
usual. The order having been given in September, the
facile gardener raised these flowers for this especial
lunch. Far more expensive than roses at a dollar apiece
is this bringing of May into January. It is impossible to
say where luxury should stop ; and, if people can afford it,
there is no necessity for its stopping. It is only to be
regretted that luxury frightens those who might like to
give simple lunches.

A lunch-party of ladies should not be crowded, as
handsome gowns take up a great deal of room ; and there-
fore a lunch for ten ladies in a moderate house is better
than a larger number. As ladies always wear their bon-
nets the room should not be too hot.

The menu is very much the same as a dinner, except-
ing the soup. In its place cups of bouillon or of clam
juice, boiled with cream and a bit of sherry, are placed
before each plate. There follows presumably a plate of
lobster croquettes with a rich sauce, filet de dceuf with

THE LUNCH. 5 1

truffles and mushrooms, sweetbread and green peas, per-
haps asparagus or cauliflower.

Then comes so7'bet, or Roman punch, much needed
to cool the palate and to invigorate the appetite for
further delicacies. The Roman punch is now often
served in very fanciful frozen shapes of ice, resembling
roses, or fruit of various kinds. If a lady is not near a
confectioner she should learn to make this herself. It is
very easy, if one only compounds it at first with care.
Maraschino cordial or fine old Jamaica rum being mixed
with water and sugar as for a punch, and well frozen.

The game follows, and the salad. These two are often
served together. After that the ices and fruit. Cheese
is rarely offered at a lady's lunch, excepting in the form
of cheese straws. Chateau Yquem, champagne, and
claret are the favourite wines. Cordial is offered after-
ward with the coffee. A lady's lunch-party is supposed
to begin at one o'clock and end at three.

It is a delightful way of showing all one's pretty things.
At a luncheon in New York I have seen a tablecloth of
linen into which has been inserted duchesse lace worth,
doubtless, several hundred dollars, the napkins all trimmed
with duchesse, worth at least twenty dollars apiece.
This elegant drapery was thrown over a woollen broad-
cloth underpiece of a pale lilac.

In the middle of the table was a grand epergne of the
time of Louis Seize ; the glass and china were superb.
At the proper angle stood silver and gold cups, orna-
mental pitchers, and claret jugs. At every lady's plate
stood a splendid bouquet tied with a long satin ribbon,
and various small favours, as fans and fanciful menus
were given.

^s the lunch went on we were treated to new surprises

52 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

of napery and of Sevres plates. The napkins became
Russian, embroidered with gold thread, as the spoons
and forks were also of Russian silver and gold, beautifully
enamelled. Then came those embroidered with heraldic
animals, — the Hon and the two-headed eagle and griffin,
— the monogram gracefully intertwined.

Plates were used, apparently of solid gold and beautiful
workmanship. The Roman punch was hidden in the
heart of a water lily, which looked uncommonly innocent
with its heart of fire. The service of this lunch was so
perfect that we did not see how we were served ; it all
moved as if to music. Pleasant chat was the only addi-
tion which our hostess left for us to add to her hospital-
ity. I have lunched at many great houses all over the
world, but I have never seen so luxurious a picture as
this lunch was.

It has been a question whether oysters on the half-
shell should be served at a lady's lunch. For my part I
think that they should, although many ladies prefer to
begin with the bouillon. All sorts of hors d^osuvres, like
olives, anchovies, and other relishes, are in order.

In summer, ladies sometimes serve a cold luncheon,
beginning with iced bouillon, salmon covered with a green
sauce, cold birds and salads, ices and strawberries, or
peaches frozen in cream. Cold asparagus dressed as a
salad is very good at this meal.

In English country-houses the luncheon is a very
solid meal, beginning with a stout roast with hot
vegetables, while chicken salad, a cold ham, and various
meat pies stand on the sideboard. The gentlemen get
up and help the ladies ; the servants, after going about
once or twice, often leave the room that conversation
may be more free.

THE LUNCH. 53

It might well improve the young housekeeper to study
the question of potted meats, the preparation of Melton
veal, the various egg salads, as well as those of potato,
of lobster and chicken, so that she may be prepared with
dishes for an improvised lunch. Particularly in the
country should this be done.

The etiquette of invitations for a ladies' lunch is the

same as that of a dinner. They are sent out a fortnight

before ; they are carefully engraved, or they are written

on note paper.

Mrs. Somerville

Requests the pleasure of

Mrs. Montgomery's

Company at lunch on Thursday, 15th,

at I o'clock.
R. S. V. P.

This should be answered at once, and the whole engage-
ment treated with the gravity of a dinner engagement.

These lunch-parties are very convenient for ladies who,
from illness or indisposition to society, cannot go out in
the evening. It is also very convenient if the lady of
the house has a husband who does not like society and
who finds a dinner-party a bore.

The usual custom is for ladies to dress in dark street
dresses, and their very best. That with an American
lady means much, for an American husband stops at
no expense. Worth says that American women are the
best customers he has, — far better than queens. The
latter ask the price, and occasionally haggle ; American
women may ask the price, but the order is, the very
best you can do.

Luncheons are very fashionable in England, especially
on Sunday. These lunches, although luxurious, are by

54 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

no means the costly spreads which American women
indulge in. They are attended by gentlemen as well as
ladies, for in a land where a man does not go to the
House of Commons until five in the afternoon he may
well lunch with his family. What time did our fore-
fathers lunch? In the reign of Francis the First the
polite French rose at five, dined at nine, supped at five,
and went to bed at nine. Froissart speaks of " waiting
upon the Duke of Lancaster at five in the afternoon
after he had supped." If our ancestors dined at nine,
when did they lunch?

After some centuries the dinner hour grew to be ten
in the morning, by which time they had beseiged a town
and burned up a dozen heretics, probably to give them a
good appetite, a sort of avant gout. The later hours
now in vogue did not prevail until after the Restoration.

Lunch has remained fastened at one o'clock, for a
number of years at least. In England, curiously enough,
they give you no napkins at this meal, which certainly
requires them.

A hunt breakfast in America is, of course, a hearty
meal, to which the men and women are asked who have
an idea of riding to hounds. It is usually served at
little tables, and the meal begins with hot bouillon. It is
a heartier meal than a lady's lunch, and as luxurious as
the hostess pleases ; but it does not wind up with ices
and fruits, although it may begin with an orange. Much
more wine is drunk than at a lady's lunch, and yet some
hunters prefer to begin the day with tea only. Every-
thing should be offered, and what is not liked can be
refused.

" What is hit, is History,
And what is missed is Mystery."

THE LUNCH. §5

There are flimous breakfasts in London which are not
the early morning meal, neither are they called luncheons.
It is the constant habit of the literary world of London
to have reunions of scientific and agreeable people early
in the day, and what would be called a party in the
evening, is called a breakfast. We should call it a
reception, except that one is asked at eleven o'clock.
But the greatest misnomer of all is the habit in London
of giving a dinner, a ball, and a supper out of doors at
five o'clock, and calling that a " breakfast." Except
that the gentlemen are in morning dress and the ladies
in bonnets this has no resemblance to what we call
breakfast.

Breakfast at nine, or earlier, is a solemn process. It
has no great meaning for us, who have our children to
send to school, our husbands to prepare for business,
ourselves for a busy day or a long journey. For the
very luxurious it no longer exists.

Luncheon on the contrary is apt to be a lively and
exhilarating occasion. It is the best moment in the day
to some people. A thousand dollars is not an unusual
sum to expend on a lady's lunch in New York for
eighteen or twenty- five guests, counting the favours, the
flowers, the wines, and the viands, and even then we
have not entered into the cost of the china, the glass,
porcelain, cloisomie, Dresden, Sevres, and silver, which
make the table a picture. The jewelled goblets from
Carlsbad, the knives and forks with crystal handles, set
in silver, from Bohemia, and the endless succession of
beautiful plates, — who shall estimate the cost of all this ?

As to the precedence of plates, it is meet that China,
oldest of nations, should suffice for the soup. The
oysters have already been served on shell-like Majolica.

56 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

England, a maritime nation surrounded by ocean, must
furnish the plates for the fish. For the roast, too, what
plates so good as Doulton, real English, substantial
faience ?

For the Bouchers a la Reine and all the entrees we
must have Sevres again.

Japanese will do for the filet aux champignons^ the
venison, the pieces de resistance, as well as English.
Japanese plates are strong. But here we are running
into dinner; indeed, these two feasts do run into each
other.

One should not have a roast at ladies' lunch, unless it
be a roast pheasant.

Dresden china plates painted with fruits and flowers
should be used for the dessert. On these choice plates,
with perforated edges marked " x\ R " on the back,
should lie the ices frozen as natural fruits. We can
scarcely tell the frozen banana or peach before us, from
the painted banana on our plate.

For the candied fruit, we must again have Sevres.
Then a gold dish filled with rose-water must be passed.
We dip a bit of the napkin in it, for in this country we
do have napkins with our luncheon, and wipe our lips
and fingers. This is called a trempoir.

The cordials at the end of the dinner must be served
in cups of Russian gold filagree supporting glass. There
is an analogy between the rival, luscious richness of the
cordial and the cup.

The coffee-cups must be thin as egg-shells, of the
most delicate French or American china. We make
most delicate china and porcelain cups ourselves nowa-
days, at Newark, Trenton, and a dozen other places.

There is a vast deal of waste in ofl"ering so much wine

THE LUNCH. 57

at a ladies' lunch. American women cannot drink much
wine ; the climate forbids it. We have not been brought
up on beer, or on anything more stimulating than ice-
water. Foreign physicians say that this is the cause of
all our woes, our dyspepsia, our nervous exhaustion, our
rheumatism and hysteria. I believe that climate and
constitution decide these things for us. We are not
prone to over- eat ourselves, to drink too much wine ; and
if the absence of these grosser tastes is visible in pale
cheeks and thin arms, is not that better than the other
extreme?

All entertaining can go on perfectly well without wine,
if people so decide. It would be impossible, however,
to make many poetical quotations without an allusion to
the " ruby," as Dick Swiveller called it. Since Cleopatra
dissolved the pearl, the wine-cup has held the gems of
human fancy.

Champagne Cup : One pint bottle of soda water, one
quart dry champagne, one wine-glass of brandy, a few fresh
strawberries, a peach quartered, sugar to taste ; cracked ice.

Another recipe : One quart dry champagne, one pint bottle
of Rhine wine, fruit and ice as above ; cracked ice. Mix in
a large pitcher.

Claret Cup : One bottle of claret, one pint bottle of soda
water, one wine-glass brandy, half a wine-glass of lemon-
juice, half a pound of lump sugar, a few slices of fresh
cucumber ; mix in cracked ice.

^^int Julep : Fresh mint, a few drops of orange bitters
and Maraschino, a small glass of liqueur, brandy or whiskey,
put in a tumbler half full of broken ice ; shake well, and serve
with fruit on top with straws.

Another recipe for Miiif Julep : Half a glass of port wine,
a few drops of Maraschino, mint, sugar, a thin slice of lemon,
shake the cracked ice from glass to glass, add strawberry or
pineapple.

58 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Turkish Sherbets : Extract by pressure or infusion the
rich juice and fine perfume of any of the odouriferous
flowers or fruits; mix them in any number or quantity to
taste. When these essences, extracts, or infusions are pre-
pared they may be immediately used by adding a proper
proportion of sugar or syrup ; and water. Some acid fruits,
such as lemon or pomegranate, are used to raise the flavour,
but not to overpower the chief perfume. Fill the cup with
cracked ice and add what wine or spirit is preferred.

Claret Cobbler : One bottle wine, one bottle ApoUinaris or
Seltzer, one lemon, half a pound of sugar ; serve with ice.

Champagne Cobbler : One bottle of champagne, one half
bottle of white wine, much cracked ice, strawberries, peaches
or sliced oranges.

Shej'ry Cobbler: Full wine-glass of sherry, very little
brandy, sugar, sliced lemon, cracked ice. This is but one
tumblerful.

Kiurunel : This liqueur is very good served with shaved
ice in small green claret-cups.

Punch : One bottle Arrack, one bottle brandy, two quart
bottles dry champagne, one tumblerful of orange curagoa,
one pound of cracked sugar, half a dozen lemons sliced,
half a dozen oranges sliced. Fill the bowl with large lump
of ice and add one quart of water.

Sha7idygaff : London porter and ginger ale, half and half.

AFTERNOON TEA.

*' And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups
That cheer but not inebriate wait on each,
So let us welcome peaceful evening in."

WHATEVER objections can be urged against all
other systems of entertaining, including the ex-
pense, the bore it is to a gentleman to have his house
turned inside out, the fatigue to the lady, the disorganiza-
tion of domestic service, nothing can be said against
afternoon tea, unless that it may lead to a new disease,
the delirium teamens. There is danger to nervous
women in our climate in too great indulgence in this
delicious beverage. It sometimes murders sleep and
impairs digestion. We cannot claim that it is always
safer than opium. It was very much abused in England
in 1678, ten years after Lords Arlington and Ossory
brought it over from the meditative Dutchman, who was
the first European to appreciate it. It was then called a
** black water with an acrid taste." It cost, however, in
England sixty shillings a pound, so that it must have
been fashionable. Pepys in his diary records that he sent
for a cup of tea, a " China drink which he had not used
before." He did not like it, but then he did not like
the " Midsummer Night's Dream." " The most insipid,
ridiculous play I ever saw in my life," he writes; so we
4o not care what he thought about a blessed cup of tea.

60 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

In the middle of the sixteenth century, with pasties
and ale for breakfast, with sugared cakes and spiced
wines at various hours of the day, with solid " noonings,"
and suppers with strong potations of sack and such
possets as were the ordinary refreshments, it is not prob-
able that tea would have been appreciated. The Dutch
were crafty, however ; they saw that there was a common
need of a hot, rather stimulating beverage, which had no
intoxicating effects. They exported sage enough to pay
for the tea, and got the better of even the wily Chinaman,
who avowed some time after, in their trade with America,
"That spent tea-leaves, dried again, were good enough
for second-chop Enghshmen."

Jonas Haunay wrote a treatise against tea- drinking in
Johnson's time, and that vast, insatiable, and shameless
tea-drinker took up the cudgels for tea, settling it as a
brain-inspirer for all time, and wrote Rasselas on the
strength of it. Cobbett wrote against its use by the
labouring classes, and the " Edinburgh Review " endorsed
his arguments, stating that a " prohibition absolute and
uncompromising of the noxious beverage was the first step
toward insuring health and strength for the poor," and
asserting that when a labourer fancied himself refreshed
with a mess of this stuff, sweetened with the coarsest
brown sugar and diluted by azure- blue milk, it was only
the warmth of the water which consoled him for the
moment. Cobbett claimed that the tea-table cost more
to support than would keep two children at nurse.

The " Quarterly Review " in an article written perhaps
by the most famous chemist of the day, said, however,
that " tea relieves the pains of hunger rather by mechan-
ical distention than by supplying the waste of nature by
adequate sustenance," but claimed for it the power of

AFTERNOON TEA. 6 1

calm, placid, and benignant exhilaration, greatly stimulat-
ing the stomach, when fatigued by digestive exertion,
and acting as an appropriate diluent of the chyle. More
recent inquiries into the qualities of the peculiar power
of tea have tended to raise it in popular esteem, although
no one has satisfactorily explained why it has become so
universally necessary to the human race.

An agreeable little book called ''The Beverages We
Indulge In," "The Herbs Which We Infuse," or some
such title, had a great deal to do with the adoption of tea
as a drink for young men who were training for a boat-
race, or who desired to economize their strength for a
mountain climb. But every one, from the tired washer-
woman to the student, the wrestler, the fine lady, and the
strong man, demands a cup of tea.

To the invalid it is the dearest solace, dangerous
though it may be. Tannin, the astringent element in
tea, is bad for delicate stomachs and seems to ruin appe-
tite. Tea, therefore, should never be allowed to stand.
Hot water poured on the leaves and poured off into a cup
can hardly afford the tannin time to get out. Some tea-
drinkers even put the grounds in a silver ball, perforated,
and swing this through a cup of boiling water, and in
this way is produced the most delicate cup of tea.

The famous Chinese lyric which is painted on almost
all the teapots of the Empire is highly poetical. " On
a slow fire set a tripod ; fill it with clear rain-water. Boil
it as long as it would be needed to turn fish white and
lobsters red. Throw this upon the delicate leaves of
choice tea ; let it remain as long as the vapour rises in a
cloud. At your ease drink the pure liquor, which will
chase away the five causes of trouble."

The "tea of the cells of the Dragons," the purest

62 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Pekoe from the leaf-buds of three-year-old plants, no
one ever sees in Europe ; but we have secured many
brands of tea which are sufficiently good, and the famous
Indian tea brought in by the great Exposition in Paris in
1889 is fast gaining an enviable reputation. It has a
perfect bouquet and flavour. Green tea, beloved by our
grandmothers and still a favourite with some connois-
seurs, has proved to have so much theine, the element
of intoxication in tea, that it is forbidden to nervous
people. Tea saves food by its action in preventing
various wastes to the system. It is thus peculiarly
acceptable to elderly persons, and to the tired labouring-
woman. Doubtless Mrs. Gamp's famous teapot with
which she entertained Betsy Prig contained green tea.

There is an unusually large amount of nitrogen in
theine, and green tea possesses so large a proportion of
it as to be positively dangerous. In the process of dry-
ing and roasting, this volatile oil is engendered. The
Chinese dare not use it for a year after the leaf has been
prepared, and the packer and unpacker of the tea suifer
much from paralysis. The tasters of tea become fre-
quently great invalids, unable to eat ; therefore om
favourite herb has its dangers.

More consoling is the legend of the origin of the
plant. A drowsy hermit, after long wrestling with sleep,
cut off his eyelids and cast them on the ground. From
them sprang a shrub whose leaves, shaped like eyelids
and bordered with a fringe of lashes, possessed the power
of warding off sleep. This was in the third century, and
the plant was tea.

But what has all this to do with that pleasant visage of
a steaming kettle boihng over a blazing alcohol lamp, the
silver tea-caddy, the padded cozy to keep the teapot

AFTERNOON TEA. 6^

Warm, the basket of cake, the thin bread and butter, the
pretty girl presiding over the cups, the delicate china,
the more delicate infusion? All these elements go to
make up the afternoon tea. From one or two ladies
who stayed at home one day in the week and offered
this refreshment, to the many who came to find that it
was a very easy method of entertaining, grew the present
party in the daytime. The original five o'clock tea arose
in England from the fact that ladies and gentlemen after
hunting required some slight refreshment before dressing
for dinner, and liked to meet for a Httle chat. It now is
used as the method of introducing a daughter, and an
ordinary way of entertaining.

The primal idea was a good one. People who had no
money for grand spreads were enabled to show to their
more opulent neighbours that they too had the spirit of
hospitality. The doctors discovered that tea was healthy.
English breakfast tea would keep nobody awake. The
cup of tea and the sandwich at five would spoil nobody's
dinner. The ladies who began these entertainments,
receiving modestly in plain dresses, were not out of tone
with their guests who came in walking-dress.

But then the other side was this, — ladies had to go
to nine teas of an afternoon, perhaps taste something
everywhere. Hence the new disease, deli7'ium teame7is.
It was uncomfortable to assist at a large party in a heavy
winter garment of velvet and fur. The afternoon tea
lost its primitive character and became an evening party
in the daytime, with the hostess and her daughters in full
dress, and her guests in walking-costume.

The sipping of so much tea produces the nervous
prostration, the sleeplessness, the nameless misery of our
overwrought women; and thus a healthful, inexpensive

64 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

and most agreeable adjunct to the art of entertaining grew
into a thing without a name, and became the large, gas-
lighted ball at five o'clock, where half the ladies were in
decollete dresses, the others in fur tippets. It was pro-
nounced a breeder of influenzas, and the high road to a
headache.

If a lady can be at home every Thursday during the
season, and always at her position behind the blazing
urn, and will have the firmness to continue this practice,
she may create a salon out of her teacups.

In giving a large afternoon tea for which cards have
been sent out, the hostess should stand by the drawing-
room door and greet each guest, who, after a few words,
passes on. In the adjoining room, usually the dining-
room, a large table is spread with a white cloth ; and at
one end is a tea service with a kettle of water boiling
over an alcohol lamp, while at the other end is a service
for chocolate. There should be flowers on the table,
and dishes containing bread and butter cut as thin as a
shaving. Cake and strawberries are always permissible.
One or two servants should be in attendance to carry
away soiled cups and saucers, and to keep the table look-
ing fresh ; but for the pouring of the tea and chocolate
there should always be a lady, who like the hostess
should wear a gown closed to the throat ; for nothing
is worse form now-a-days than full dress before dinner.
The ladies of the house should not wear bonnets.

When tea is served every afternoon at five o'clock,
whether or no there are visitors, as is often the case
in many houses, the servant — who, if a woman, should
always in the afternoon wear a plain black gown, with
a white cap and apron — should place a small, low table
before the lady of the house, and lay over it a pretty

AFTERNOON TEA. 65

white cloth. She should then bring in a large tray,
upon which are the tea service, and a plate of bread and
butter, or cake, or both, place it upon the table, and re-
tire, — remaining within call, though out of sight, in case
she should be needed. The best rule for making tea is
the old-fashioned one : " one teaspoonful for each per-
son and one for the pot." The pot should first be
rinsed with hot water, then the tea put in, and upon it
should be poured enough water, actually boiling, to cover
the leaves. This decoction should stand for five min-
utes, then fill up the pot with more boiling water, and
pour it immediately. Some persons prefer lemon in
their tea to cream, and it is a good plan to have some
thin slices, cut for the purpose, placed in a pretty little
dish on the tray. A bowl of cracked ice is also a pleas-
ant addition in summer, iced tea being a most refresh-
ing drink in hot weather. Neither plates nor napkins
need appear at this informal and cosey meal. A guest
arriving at this time in the afternoon should always be
offered a cup of tea.

Afternoon tea, in small cities or in the country, in
villages and academic towns, can well be made a most
agreeable and ideal entertainment, for the official pre-
sentation of a daughter or for the means of seeing one's
friends. In the busy winter season of a large city it
should not be made the excuse for giving up the even-
ing party, or the dinner, lunch, or ball. It is not all
these, it is simply itself, and it should be a refuge for
those women who are tired of balls, of over dressing,
dancing, visiting, and shopping. It is also very dear to
the young who find the convenient tea-table a good
arena for flirtation. It is a form of entertainment which
allows one to dispense with etiquette and to save time.

5

66 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Five-o'clock teas should be true to their name, nor
should any other refreshment be offered than tea, bread
and butter, and little cakes. If other eatables are of-
fered the tea becomes a reception.

There is a high tea which takes the place of dinner
on Sunday evenings in cities, which is a very pretty
entertainment ; in small rural cities, in the country,
they take the place of dinners. They were formerly
very fashionable in Philadelphia. It gave an oppor-
tunity to oifer hot rolls and butter, escalloped oysters,
fried chicken, delicately sliced cold ham, waffles and
hot cakes, preserves — alas ! since the days of canning,
who offers the delicious preserves of the pasti^ The
hostess sits behind her silver urn and pours the hot tea
or coffee or chocolate, and presses the guest to take an-
other waffle. It is a delightful meal, and has no proto-
type in any country but our own.

It is doubtful, however, whether the high tea will ever
be popular in America, in large cities at least, where
the custom of seven-o'clock dinners prevails. People
find in them a violent change of living, which is always
a challenge to indigestion. Some wit has said that he
always liked to eat hot mince-pie just before he went to
bed, for then he always knew what hurt him. If any-
one wishes to know what hurts him, he can take high
tea on Sunday evening, after having dined all the week
ac seven o'clock. A pain in his chest will tell him that
the hot waffle, the cold tongue, the peach preserve, and
that '' last cup of tea " meant mischief.

Oliver Cromwell is said to have been an early tea-
drinker ; so is Queen Elizabeth, — elaborate old teapots
are sold in London with the cipher of both ; but the
report lacks confirmation. We cannot imagine Oliver

AFTERNOON TEA. 6/

drinking anything but verjuice, nor the Hon woman as
sipping anything less strong than brown stout. Litera-
ture owes much to tea. From Cowper to Austin Dob-
son, the poets have had their fling at it. And what
could the modern English novelist do without it? It
has been in politics, as all remember who have seen
Boston Harbor, and it goes into all the battles, and
climbs Mt. Blanc and the Matterhorn. The French,
who despised it, are beginning to make a good cup of
tea, and Russia bathes in it. The Samovar cheers the
long journeys across those dreary steppes, and forms
again the most luxurious ornament of the palace. On
all the high roads of Europe one can get a cup of tea,
except in Spain. There it is next to impossible ; the
universal chocolate supersedes it. If one gets a cup of
tea in Spain, there is no cream to put in it ; and to many
tea drinkers, tea is ruined without milk or cream.

In fact, the poor tea drinker is hard to please any-
where. There are to the critic only one or two houses
of one's acquaintance where five o'clock tea is perfect.

THE INTELLECTUAL COMPONENTS OF
DINNER.

" Lend me your ears,"

'* TT has often perplexed me to imagine," writes Na-
J- thaniel Hawthorne, " how an EngHshman will be
able to reconcile himself to any future state of existence
from which the earthly institution of dinner is excluded.
The idea of dinner has so imbedded itself among his
highest and deepest characteristics, so illuminated itself
with intellect, and softened itself with the kindest
emotions of his heart, so linked itself with Church and
State, and grown so majestic with long hereditary custom
and ceremonies, that by taking it utterly away. Death,
instead of putting the final touch to his perfection, would
leave him infinitely less complete than we have already
known him. He could not be roundly happy. Paradise
among all its enjoyments would lack one daily felicity in
greater measure than London in the season."

No dinner would be worth the giving that had not
one witty man or one witty woman to lift the conversa-
tion out of the commonplace. As many more agreeable
people as one pleases, but one leader is absolutely
necessary.

Not alone the funny man whom the enfant terrible
silenced by asking, " Mamma would like to know when
you are going to begin to be funny," but those men who

INTELLECTUAL COMPONENTS OF A DINNER. 69

have the rare art of being leaders without seeming to be,
who amuse without your suspecting that you are being
amused ; for there never should be anything professional
in dinner-table wit.

The dinner giver has often to feel that something has
been left out of the group about the table ; they will not
talk ! She has furnished them with food and wine, but
can she amuse them? Her witty man and her witty
woman are both engaged elsewhere, — they are apt to be,
— and her room is too warm, perhaps. She determines
that at the next dinner she will have some mechanical
adjuncts, even an empirical remedy against dulness.
She tries a dinner card with poetical quotations, conun-
drums, and so on. The Shakspeare Club of Philadelphia
inaugurated this custom, and some very witty results
followed : —

"Enter Froth" (before champagne).
" What is thine age ? " {Ro77ieo and Juliet) brings in the Madeira.

LOBSTER SALAD.

" Who hath created this indigest "i "

Pray you bid these unknown friends welcome, for it is a way to
make us better friends. — Winter's Tale.

ROAST TURKEY.

See, here he comes swelling like a turkey cock. — Henry IV.

YORK HAMS.

Sweet stem from York's great stock. — Henry VI.

TONGUE.

Silence is only commendable in a neat's tongue dried —

Merchant of Venice.
BRAISED LAMB AND BEEF.

What say you to a piece of lamb and mustard 1 — a dish that I do
love to feed upon. — Taming of the Shrew.

LOBSTER SALAD.

Sallat was born to do me good. — Henry IV.

70 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

And so on. The Bible affords others, well worth
quoting : —

OYSTERS.

He brought them up out of the sea. — Isaiah.
And his mouth was opened immediately. — Luke i. 64.

BEAN SOUP.

" Jacob gave Esau bread and pottage of lentils."

FISH, STRIPED BASS.

We remember the fish we did eat freely. — Numbers.
These with many stripes. — Deuteronomy.

STEINBERGER CABINET.

Thou hast kept the good wine until now. — Johji ii. 10.

BOILED CAPON.

Accept it always and in all places. — Acts xxiv. 3.

PIGEON BRAISE.

Pigeons such as he could get. — Leviticus.

SUCCOTASH.

' They brought corn and beans. ^Samuel.

QUAIL LARDED.

Even quail came. — Exodus.
Abundantly moistened with fat. — Isaiah.

LETTUCE SALAD.

A pleasant plant, green before the sun. — Isaiah.

Pour oil upon it, pure oil, olive. — Lruiticus.

Oil and salt, without prescribing how much. — Ezra vii. 22.

ICE CREAM.

Ice like morsels. — Psalms.

CHEESE.

Carry these ten cheeses unto the captain. — Samtiel.

FRUITS.
All kind of fruits. — Eccles.

COFFEE.

Last of all. — Matthew xxi. 37.
They had made an end of eating. — Ainos vii. 2.

CIGARS.

Am become like dust and ashes.— y^?^ xxx. 19.

INTELLECTUAL COMPONENTS OF A DINNER. /I

And so on. Written conundrums are good stimu-
lants to conversation, and dinner cards might be greatly
historical, not too learned. A legend of the day, as
Lady Day, or Michaelmas, is not a bad promoter of talk.
Or one might allude to the calendar of dead kings and
queens, or other celebrities, or ask your preferences, or
quote something from a memoir, to find out that it is a
birthday of Rossini or Goethe. All these might be
written on a dinner card, and will open the flood gates
of a frozen conversation.

Let each dinner giver weave a net out of the gossamer
threads of her own thoughts. It will be the web of the
Lady of Shalott, and will bid the shadows of pleasant
memory to remain, not float " forever adown the river,"
even toward " towered Camelot " where they may be lost.

Some opulent dinner giver once made the dinner card
the vehicle of a present, but this became rather burden-
some. It was trying and embarrassing to carry the gifts
home, and the poorer entertainer hesitated at the
expense. The outlay had better come out of one's
brain, and the piquing of curiosity with a contradiction
like this take its place : —

" A lady gave me a gift which she had not,
And I received the gift, which I took not,
And if she take it back I grieve not."

But there is something more required to form the intel-
lectual components of a dinner than these instruments to
stimulate curiosity and give a fillip to thought. We must
have variety.

Mrs. Jameson, the accomplished author of the *
" Legends of the Madonna " gives the following descrip-
tion of an out-of-door dinner, which should embolden
the young American hostess tp go and do likewise ; — '

J2 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

" Yesterday we dined alfi-esco in the Pamfili Gardens,
in Rome, and although our party was rather too large,
it was well assorted, and the day went off admirably.
The queen of our feast was in high good humour and irre-
sistibly charming, Frattino very fascinating, T. caustic
and witty, W. lively and clever, J. mild, intelligent and
elegant, V. as usual quiet, sensible, and self-complacent,
L. as absurd and assiduous as ever.

*' Everybody played their part well, each by a tacit
convention sacrificing to the amour p7'opre of his neigh-
bour, each individual really occupied with his own
peculiar role^ but all apparently happy and mutually
pleased. Vanity and selfishness, indifference and eninii
were veiled under a general mask of good humour and
good breeding, and the flowery bonds of politeness and
gallantry held together those who knew no common tie
of thought or interest.

" Our luxurious dinner, washed down by a competent
proportion of Malvoisie and champagne, was spread upon
th-^ grass, which was literally the flowery turf, being cov-
ered with violets, iris, and anemones of every dye.

" For my own peculiar taste there were too many ser-
vants, too many luxuries, too much fuss ; but considering
the style and number of our party, it was all consistently
and admirably managed. The grouping of the company,
picturesque because unpremeditated, the scenery around,
the arcades and bowers and columns and fountains had
an air altogether poetical and romantic, and put me in
mind of some of Watteau's beautiful garden pieces."

Now in this exquisite description Mrs. Jameson seems
to me to have given the intellectual components of a
dinner. "The hostess, good-humoured and charming,
Frattino very fascinating, T. caustic and witty, W, lively

INTELLECTUAL COMPONENTS OF A DINNER. 73

and clever, J. mild, intelligent, and elegant, V. as usual
quiet, sensible, and self-complacent, L. as absurd and as
assiduous as ever."

There was variety for you, and the three last were un-
doubtedly listeners. In the next paragraph she covers
more ground, and this is most important : —

" Each by a tacit convention sacrificing to the amour
propre of his neighbour."

That is an immortal phrase, for there can be no pleas-
ant dinner when this unselfishness is not shown. It was
said by a witty Boston hostess that she could never invite
two well-known diners-out to the same dinner, for each
always silenced the other. You must not have too many
good talkers. The listeners, the receptive listener.^,
should outnumber the talkers.

In England, the land of dinners, they have, of course,
no end of public, semi-official, and annual dinners, — as
those of the Royal Literary Fund, the Old Rugbians, the
Artists Benevolent Fund, the Regimental dinners, the
banquets at the Liberal and the Cobden Club, and the
nice little dinners at the Star and Garter, winding up
with the annual fish dinner.

Now of all these the most popular and sought after is
the annual dinner of the Royal Academy. Few gratifi-
cations are more desired by mortals than an invitation to
this dinner. The president, Sir Frederic Leighton, is
hantisome and popular. The dinner is representative in
character ; one or more members of the Royal Family
are present ; the Church, the Senate, the Bar, Medicine,
Literature and Science, the Army, the Navy, the City, — ■
all these have their representatives in the company.

Who would not say that this would be the most amus-
ing dinner in London? Intellect at its highesi' water

74 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

mark is present. The menic is splendid. But I have
heard one distinguished guest say that the thing is over-
freighted, the ship is too full, and the crowd of good
things makes a surfeic.

Dinners at the Lord Mayor's are said to be pleasant
iin 1 fine specimens of civic cheer, but the grand nights at
the Middle Temple and others of the Inns of Court are
occasions of pleasant festivity.

We have nothing to do with these, however, except to
read of them, and to draw our conclusions. I know of
no better use to which we can put them than the same
rereading which we gave Mrs. Jameson's well-considered
menu : " Each individual really occupied with his own role,
but all apparently happy and mutually pleased. Variety
and selfishness or indifference or ennui well veiled under
a general mask of good humour and good breeding, and
the flowery bands of politeness and gallantry holding to-
gether those who knew no common tie of thought and
interest." It requires very civilized people to veil their
indifference and ennui under a general mask of good
humour.

To have unity, one must first have .units ; and to make
an agreeable dinner-party the hostess should invite
agreeable people, and her husband should be a good
host ; and here we must again compliment England. An
Englishman is ch.urlish and distant, self-conscious and
prejudiced everywhere else but at his own table. He is
a model host, and a most agreeable guest. He is the
most genial of creatures after the soup and sherry. In-
deed the English dinner is the keynote to all that is best
in the English character. An Englishman wishes to eat
in company.

How unlike the Spaniard, who never asks you to din-

INTELLECTUAL COMPONENTS OF A DINNER. 75

ner. However courtly and hospitable he may be at
other times and other hours of the day, he likes to drag
his bone into a corner and gnaw it by himself.

The Frenchman, elegant, soigne^ and economical, invites
you to the best-cooked dinner in the world, but there is
not much of it. He prefers to entertain you at a caf6.
Country life in France is delightful, but there is not that
luxurious, open-handed entertaining which obtains in
England.

In Italy one is seldom admitted to the privacy of the
family dinner. It is a patriarchal affair. But when one
is admitted one finds much that is siinpafica. The
cookery is good, the service is perfect, the dinner is
short, the conversation gay and easy.

In making up a dinner with a view to its intellectual
components, avoid those tedious talkers who, having a
theme, a system, or a fad to air, always contrive to drag
the conversation around to their view, with the intention
of concentrating the whole attention upon themselves.
One such man, called appropriately the Bore Constrictor
of conversation in a certain city, really drove people
away from every house to which he was invited ; for they
grew tired of hearing him talk of that particular science
in which he was an expert. Such a talker could make
the planet Jupiter a bore, and if the talker were of the
feminine gender how one would shun her verbosity.

" I called on Mrs. Marjoribanks yesterday," said a
free lance once, " and we had a little gossip about Co-
pernicus." We do not care to have anything quite so
erudite, for if people are really very intimate with Co-
pernicus they do not mention it at dinner.

It is as impossible to say what makes the model
diner-out as to describe the soil which shall grow the

76 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

best grapes. We feel it and we enjoy it, but we can
give no receipt for the production of the same.

As history, with exemplary truthfulness, has always
painted man as throwing off all the trouble of giving a
dinner on his wife, why have not our clever women ap-
preciated the power of dinner-giving in politics ? Why
are not our women greater politicians? Where is our
Lady Jersey, our Lady Palmerston, our Princess Belgi-
oso? The Princess Lieven, wife of the Russian Am-
bassador in London, was said to have held the peace of
Europe in the conduct of her entrees ; and a country-
woman of our own is to-day supposed to influence the
policy of Germany largely by her dinners. From the
polished and versatile memoirs of the Grammonts, Wal-
poles, D'Azelios, Sydney Smith, and Lord Houghton,
how many an anecdote hinges on the efficacy of a
dinner in reconciling foes, and in the making of friends.
How many a conspiracy was hatched, no doubt, behind
an aspic of plover's eggs or a vol au vent de volaille.
How many a budding ministry, according to Lord Lam-
mington, was brought to full power over a well-ordered
table-cloth. How many a war cloud dispelled by the
proper temperature of the Burgundy. It is related of
Lord Lyndhurst that when somebody asked him how to
succeed in life, he answered, "Give good wine." A
French statesman would have answered, " Give good din-
ners." Talleyrand kept the most renowned table of his
day, quite as much for political as hygienic reasons. At
eighty years of age he still spent an hour every morning
with his chef, discussing the dishes to be served at
dinner. The Emperor Napoleon, who was no epicure,
nor even a connoisseur, was nevertheless pleased with
Talleyrand's luxurious and refined hospitality, in conse-

INTELLECTUAL COMPONENTS OF A DINNER. JJ

quence of the impression it made on those who were so
fortunate as to partake of it. On the other hand, one
hesitates to contemplate the indigestions and bad Enghsh
cooking which must have hatched an OUver Cromwell,
or still earlier that decadence of Italian cookery which
made a Borgia possible.

Social leaders in all ages and countries have thus
studied the tastes and the intellectual aptitudes and ca-
pabilities of those whom they have gathered about their
boards ; and Mythology would suggest that the petits
soiipers on high Olympus, enlivened by the " inextin-
guishable laughter of the gods," had much to do with the
politics of the Greek heaven under Jupiter. Reading
the Northern Saga in the same connection, may not the
vague and awful conceptions of cookery which seem to
have filled the Northern mind have had something to do
with the opera of Siegfried ? Even the music of Wag-
ner seems to have been inspired by a draught from the
skull of his enemy. It has the fascination of clanging
steel, and the mighty rustling of armour. The wind sighs
through the forest, and the ice-blast freezes the hearer.
The chasms of earth seem to open before us. But it
has also the terror of an indigestion, and the brooding
horror of a nightmare from drinking metheglia and eat-
ing half-roasted kid. The political aspect of a Scandi-
navian heaven was always stormy. Listen to the Trilogy.

In America a hostess sure of her soups and her en-
trees, with such talkers as she could command, could
influence American political movements — she might in-
fluence its music — by her dinners, and become an envi-
able Lady Palmerston.

Old people are apt to say that there is a decay in the
art of conversation, that it is one of the lost arts. No

78 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

doubt this is in a measure true all over the world. A
French salofi would be to-day an impossibility for that
very reason. It is no longer the fashion to tell anec-
dotes, to try to be amusing. A person is considered a
prig who sits up to amuse the company. All this is bad ;
it is reactionary after the drone of the Bore Constrictor.
It is going on all over the world. It is part of that
hurry which has made us talk slang, the jelly of speech,
speech condensed and boiled down, easily transported,
and warranted to keep in all climates.

But there is a very pleasant juste milieu between the
stately, perhaps starchy, anecdotist of the past and the
easy and witty talker of to-day, who may occasionally
drop into slang, and what is more, may permit a certain
slovenliness of speech. There are certain mistakes in
English, made soberly, advisedly, and without fear of
Lindley Murray, which make one sigh for the propri-
eties of the past. The trouble is we have no standard.
Writers are always at work at the English language,
and yet many people say that it is at present the most
irregular and least understood of all languages.

The intellectual components of a successful dinner,
should, if we may quote Hawthorne, be illuminated with
intellect, and softened by the kindest emotions of the
heart. To quote Mrs. Jameson, they must combine
the caustic and the witty, the lively and the clever, and
even the absurd, and the assiduous above all. Everybody
must be unselfish enough not to yawn, and never seem
bored. They must be self-sacrificing, but all apparently
well-pleased. The intellectual components of a dinner,
like the condiments of a salad, must be of the best ; and
it is for the hostess to mix them with the unerring tact
and fine discrimination of an American woman.

CONSCIENTIOUS DINERS.

It is chiefly men of intellect who hold good eating in honour.
The head is not capable of a mental operation which consists in
a long sequence of appreciations, and many severe decisions of
the judgment, which has not a well-fed brain.

Brillat Savarin.

A GOOD dinner and a pretty hostess, — for there are
terms on which beauty and beef can meet much
to the benefit of both, — one wit, several good talkers, and
as many good listeners, or more of the latter, are said to
make a combination which even our greatest statesmen
do not despise. Man wants good dinners. It is
woman's province to provide them ; but nature and
education must make the conscientious diner.

It is to be feared that we are too much in a hurry to
be truly conscientious diners. Our men have too many
school-tasks yet, — politics, money-making, science, men-
tal improvement, charities, psychical research, building
railroads, steam monitors, colleges, and such like gauds,
— too many such distractions to devote themselves
as they ought to the question of entrees and entremets.
They should endeavour to give the dinner a fitting place.
Just see how the noble language of France, which
Racine dignified and Moliere amplified, respectfully puts
on its robes of state which are lined with ermine when
it approaches the great subject of dinner !

8o THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

It is to be feared that we are far off from the fine
art of dining, although many visits to Paris and much
patronage of Le Doyon's, the Cafe Anglais, and the
Cafe des Ambassadeurs, may have prepared us for
the entremet and the piece de resistance. We are im-
proving in this respect and no longer bolt our dinners.
The improvement is already manifest in the better
tempers and complexions of our people.

But are we as conscientious as the gentleman in
" Punch " who rebuked the giddy girl who would talk
to him at dinner? *' Do you remember, my dear, that
you are in the house of the best entrees in London? I
wish to eat my dinner."

That was a man to cook for i He had his appropriate
calm reserve of appreciation, for the supreme de volaille.
He knew how to watch and wait for the sweetbreads,
and green peas. Not thrown away upon him was that
last turn which makes the breast of the partridge become
of a delicate Vandyck brown. How respectful was he
to that immortal art for which the great French cook
died, a suicide for a belated turbot.

** Ah," said Parke Godwin once, when in one of his
most brilliant Brillat Savarin moods, '' how it ennobles a
supper to think that all these oysters will become
ideas ! "

But if a dinner is not a cookery book, neither is it a
matter of expense alone, nor a payment of social debts.
It is a question of temperature, of the selection of guests,
of the fitness of things, of a proper variety, and of time.
The French make their exquisite dinners light and short.
The English make theirs a trifle long and heavy.

The young hostess, to strike the juste milieu^ must
travel, reflect, and go to a cooking-school. She must

CONSCIENTIOUS DINERS. 8 1

buy and read a library of cooking- books. And when all
is done and said, she must realize that a cookery-book
is not a dinner. There are some natures which can
absorb nothing from a cookery-book. As Lady Galway
said that she had put all her wits into Bradshaw's '' Rail-
way Guide " and had never got them out again, so some
amateur cook remarked that she had tested her recipes
with the " cook-book in one hand and the cooking-stove
in the other," yet the wit had stayed away. All young
housekeepers must go through the discipline — in a land
where cooks are as yet scarce — of trying and failing, of
trying and at length succeeding. They must go to La
Belle France to learn how to make a soup, for instance.
That is to say, they must study the best French
authorities.

The mere question of sustenance is easy of solution.
We can stand by a cow and drink her milk, or we can
put some bread in our pockets and nibble it as we go
along; but dinner as represented by our complicated
civilization is a matter of interest which must always
stand high amongst the questions which belong to social
life. It is a very strange attendant circumstance that
having been a matter of profound concern to mankind
for so many years, it is now almost as easy to find a
bad dinner as a good one, even in Paris, that head-
quarters of cookery.

There would be no sense in telling a young American
housekeeper to learn to make sauces and to cook like a
French chef, for it is a profession requiring years of
study and great natural taste and aptitude. A French
chef commands a higher salary than a secretary of state
or than a civil engineer. As well tell a young lady that
she could suddenly be inspired with a knowledge of the

5552-

82 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

art of war or of navigation. She would only perhaps
learn to do very badly what they in ten years learn to
do so weil. She would say in her heart, '' For my part I
am surfeited with cookery. I cry, something 7-aw if
you please for me, — something that has never been
touched by hand except the one that pulled it off the
blooming tree or uprooted it from the honest ground.
Let me be a Timon if you will, and eat green radishes
and cabbages, or a Beau Brummel, asphyxiated in the
consumption of a green pea; but no ragoiit, coteleitCj
compote, crenie, or any hint or cooking till the remem-
brance of all that I have seen has faded and the smell
of it has passed away ! "

Thus said one who attended a cooking- school, had
gone through the mysteries of soup-making, had learned
what saute means ; had mastered ent7-emets, and entrees,
and plats, and hors cTmcvres ; had learned that boudins
de veau are simply veal puddings, something a little
better than a veal croquette made into a little pie ; and
had found that all meats if badly cooked are much
alike. There is a great deal of nonsense talked about
making good dishes out of nothing. A French cook is
very economical, he uses up odds and ends, but he must
have something to cook with.

Stone broth does not go down with a hungry man, nor
bad food, however disguised with learned sauces. A little
learning is a dangerous thing, and one who attempts too
much will fail. But one can read, and reflect, and
get the general outlines of cultivated cookery. As to
cultivated cookery being necessarily extravagant, that is
a mistake. A great, heavy, ill-considered dinner is no
doubt costly. Almost all American housekeeping is
wasteful in the extreme, but the modern vanities which

CONSCIENTIOUS DINERS. 83

depend on" the skill of the cook and the arranging mind
of the housekeeper, all these are the triumphs of the
present age, and worthy of deep thought and considera-
tion. Let the young housekeeper remember that the
pretty entrees made out of yesterday's roast chicken or
turkey will be a great saving as well as a great luxury,
and she will learn to make them.

Amongst a busy people like ourselves, from poorest
to the richest, dinners are intended to be recreations,
and recreations of inestimable value. The delightful con-
trast which they offer to the labours of the day, the pleas-
ant, innocent triumph they afford to the hostess, in which
all may partake without jealousy, the holiday air of guests
and of the dining-room, which should be fresh, well aired,
filled with flowers, made bright with glass and silver, — all
this refreshes the tired man of affairs and invigorates
every creature. As far as possible, the discussion of all
disagreeable subjects should be kept from the dinner-
table. All that is unpleasant lowers the pulse and re-
tards digestion. All that is cheerful invigorates the pulse
and helps the human being to live a more brave and use-
ful life. No one should bring an unbecoming grumpi-
ness to the dinner-table. Be grumpy next day if you
choose, when the terrapin may have disagreed with you,
but not at the feast. Bring the best bit of news and
gossip, not scandal, the choicest critique of the last novel,
the cream of your correspondence. Be sympathetic,
amiable, and agreeable at a feast, else it were better you
had stayed away. The last lesson of luxury is the advice
to contribute of- our very best to the dinners of our
friends, while we form our own dinners on the plane of
the highest luxury which we can afford, and avoid the
great too much, Remember that in all countries the

84 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

American lavish prodigality of feasting, and the expensive
garniture of hothouse flowers, are always spoken of as vul-
gar. How well it will be for us when our splendid array
of fish, flesh, and fowl shall have reached the benediction
of good cookery ; when we know how to serve it, not
with barbaric magnificence and repletion, but with a
delicate sense of fitness.

Mr. Webster, himself an admirable dinner giver, said
of a codfish salad that it was " fit to eat." He afterwards
remarked, more gravely, — and it made him unpopular,
— that a certain nomination was " not fit to be made."

That led to a discussion of the word " fit." The fitness
of things, the right amount, the thing in the right place,
whether it be the condiment of a salad or the nomination
to the presidency, — this is the thing to consult, to think
of in a dinner ; let it be " fit to be made."

An American dinner resolves itself into the following
formula : —

The oyster is offered first. What can equal the Amer-
ican oyster in all his salt-sea freshness, raw, on the half-
shell, a perpetual stimulant to appetite, — with a slice of
lemon, and a bit of salt and pepper, added to his own
luscious juices, his perfect flavor? The jaded palate,
worn with much abuse, revives, and stands, like Oliver,
asking for more.

The soup follows. To this great subject we might de-
vote a chapter. What visions of white and brown, clear
and thick, fresh beef stock or the maritime delicacies of
Cray fish and prawn rise before us, — in every colour, from
pink or cream to the heavy Venetian red of the mulliga-
tawny or the deep smoke-tints of mock turtle and terra-
pin ! The subject grows too large for mere mention ; we
must give a chapter to soup.

CONSCIENTIOUS DINERS. 85

When we speak of fish we reaUze that the ocean even
is inadequate to hold them all. Have we not trout, sal-
mon, the great fellows from the Great Lakes, and the ex-
clusive ownership of the Spanish mackerel ? Have we not
the fee simple of terrapin and the exclusive excellence of
shad? This subject, again, requires a volume.

The roast I Ah ! here we once bowed to our great
Mother England, and thought her roast beef better than
ours. There are others who think that we have caught
up on the roasts. Our beef is very good, our mutton
does not equal always the English Southdowns ; but we
are even improving in the blacknosed woolly brethren
who conceal such delicious juices under their warm
coats.

A roast saddle of mutton with currant jelly — but let
us not linger over this thrilling theme. Our venison is
the best in the world.

As for turkeys, — we discovered them, and it is fair
to say that, after looking the world over, there is no
better bird than a Rhode Island Turkey, particularly if
it is sent to you as a present from a friend. Hang him
a week, with a truffle in him, and stuff him with chestnuts.

As for chickens — there France has us at a disadvan-
tage. There seems to be a secret of fowl-feeding, or
rearing, in France which we have not mastered. Still we
can get good chickens in America, and noble capons,
but they are very expensive.

The entrees — here we must go again to those early
missionaries to a savage shore, the Delmonicos. They
were the high priests of the entree.

The salads — those daughters of luxury, those deli-
cate expressions, in food, of the art of dress — deserve
a separate chapter.

86 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

And now the sorbet cools our throats and leads us up
to the game.

The American desserts are particularly rich and pro-
fuse. Our pies have been laughed at, but they also are
fit to eat, especially mince-pie, which is first cousin to
an English plum-pudding.

Our puddings are like our Western scenery, heavy but
magnificent. Our ices have reached, under our foreign
imported artists, the greatest perfection. Our fruit is
abundant and highly flavoured. We have not yet per-
haps known how to draw the line as to desserts. The
great too 7mich prevails.

Do we not make our dinners too long and too heavy?
How great an artist would he be who should so gradu-
ate a dinner that there would be no to-morrow in it !
We eat more like Heliogabalus than like that gourmet
who took the beccafico out of the olive which had been
hidden in the pigeon, which had in its turn been warmed
in the chicken, which was cooked in the ox, which was
roasted whole for the birthday of a king. The goitnneT
discarded the rest, but ate the beccafico.

The first duty of a guest who is asked to one of these
dinners is to be punctual. Who wishes to sit next to
Mr. Many-Courses, when he has been kept waiting for
his dinner? Imagine the feelings of an amiable host
and hostess who, after taking the trouble to get up an
excellent dinner, feel that it is being spoiled by the tar-
diness of one guest ! They are nervously watching Mr.
Many-Courses, for hungry animals are frequently snap-
pish, and sometimes dangerous.

The hostess who knows how to invite her guests and to
seat them afterwards is a power in the State. She helps
to refine, elevate, and purify our great American con-

CONSCIENTIOUS DINERJ^. ^f

glomerate. She has not the Englishman's Bible, " The
Peerage," to help her seat her guests ; she must trust
to her own intelligence to do that. Our great American
conglomerate repels all idea of rank, or the precedence
idea, which is so well understood in England.

Hereditary distinction we have not, for although there
are some families which can claim a grandfather, they
are few. A grandfather is of little importance to the
men who make themselves. Aristocracy in America is
one of talent or money.

Even those more choice intelligences, which in older
countries are put on glass pedestals, are not so elevated
here as to excite jealousy. We all adore the good diner-
out, but somebody would be jealous if he had always the
best seat. Therefore the hostess has to contend with
much that is puzzling in the seating of her guests ; but
if she says to herself, " I will place those people near
each other who are sympathetic," she will govern her
festive board with the intelligence of Elizabeth, and the
generosity of Queen Margharita.

She must avoid too many highly scented flowers.
People are sometimes weary of the " rapture of roses."
Horace says : " Avoid, at an agreeable entertainment,
discordant music, and muddy perfume, and poppies
mixed with Sardinian honey ; they give offence."
Which is only another way of saying that some music
may be too heavy, and the perfume of flowers too
strong.

Remember, young hostess, or old hostess, that your
dinner is to be made up of people who have to sit two
hours chatting with each other, and that this is of itself
a severe ordeal of patience.

Good breeding is said to be the apotheosis of self-

88 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

restraint, and so is good feeding. Good breeding puts
nature under restraint, controls the temper, and refines
the speech. Good feeding, unless it is as well governed
as it should be, inflames the nose and the temper, and
enlarges the girth most unbecomingly. Good breed-
ing is the guardian angel of a woman. Good feeding,
that is, conscientious dining, must be the patron saint of
a man ! A truly well bred and well fed man is quiet in
dress, does not talk slang, is not prosy, is never unbe-
comingly silent, nor is he too garrulous. He is always
respectful to everybody, kind to the weak, helpful to the
feeble. He may not be an especially lofty character,
but good feeding inducts him into the character and
duties of a gentleman. He simulates a virtue if he
has it not, especially after dinner. Noblesse oblige is his
motto, and he feels what is due to himself.

Can we be a thorough-bred, or a thorough-fed, all by
ourselves ? It is easy enough to learn when and where
to leave a card, how to behave at a dinner, how to use a
fork, how to receive and how to drop an acquaintance ;
but what a varied education is that which leads up to
good feeding, to becoming a conscientious diner. It is
not given to every one, this lofty grace.

A dinner should be a good basis for a mutual under-
standing. They say that few great enterprises have
been conducted without it. People are sure to like
each other much better after dining together. It is
better to go home from a dinner remembering how
clever everybody was, than to go home merely to
wonder at the opulence that could compass such a
pageant.

A dinner should put every one into his best talking
condition. The quips and quirks of excited fancy

CONSCIENTIOUS DINErS. 89

should come gracefully, for society well arranged brings
about the attrition of wits. If one is comfortable and
well-fed — not gorged — he is in his best condition.

The more civilized the world gets, the more difficult
it is to amuse it. It is the common complaint of the
children of luxury that dinners are dull and society
stupid. How can the reformer make society more
amusing and less dangerous? Eliminate scandal and
back-biting.

The danger and trials and difficulties of dinner-giving
are manifold. First, whom shall we ask? Will they
come? It is often the fate of the hostess, in the busy
season, to invite forty people before she gets twelve.
Having got the twelve, she then has perhaps a few days
before the dinner to receive the unwelcome news that
Jones has a cold, Mrs. Brown has lost a relative, and
Miss Malcontent has gone to Washington. The dinner
has to be reconstructed ; deprived of its original inten-
tion it becomes a balloon which has lost ballast. It
goes drifting about, and there is no health in it and no
purpose. This is especially true also of those dinners
which are conducted on debt- paying principles.

How many hard-worked, rich men in America are
bored to death by the gilded and over-burdened splen-
dour of their wives' dinners and those to which they are
to go. They sit looking at their hands during two or
three courses, poor dyspeptics who cannot eat. To re-
lieve them, to bring them into communion with their
next neighbour, with whom they have nothing in common,
what shall one do? Oh, that depressing cloud which
settles over the jaded senses of even the conscientious
diner, as he fails to make his neighbour on either side
say anything but yes or no !

^6 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

We must, perhaps, before we give the perfect dmner,
renounce the idea that dinner should be on a commercial
basis. Of course our social debts must be paid. It is a
large subject, like the lighting of a city, the cleaning of
the streets, and must be approached carefully, so that the
lesser evil may not swamp the greater good. Do not
invite twelve people to bore them.

The dinner hour differs in different cities, — from seven
to half-past seven, to eight, and eight and a half; all
these have their adherents. In London, many a party
does not sit down until nine. Hence the necessity of a
hearty meal at five o'clock tea. The royalties, all
blessed with good appetites, eat eggs on toast, hot scones
and other good things at five o'clock tea, and take often
an avant goiit diho at seven.

In our country half-past seven is generally the most
convenient hour, unless one is going to the play after-
ward, when seven is better. A dinner should not last
more than an hour and a half. But it does last some-
times three hours.

Ladies dress for a large dinner often in low neck and
short sleeves, wear their jewels, and altogether their
finest things. But now Pompadour waists are allowed.
For a small dinner, the Pompadour dress, half-open at
the throat, with a few jewels, is in better taste.

Men should be always in full dress, — black coat, waist-
coat, and trousers, and white cravat. There is no varia-
tion from this dress at a dinner, large or small.

For ladies in delicate health who cannot expose throat
or arms, there is always the largest liberty allowed ; but
the dinner dress must be handsome.

In leaving the house and ordering the carriage, name
the earliest hour rather than the latest ; it is better to

CONSCIENTIOUS DINERS. 9I

keep one's coachman waiting than to weary one's host-
ess. It is quite impossible to say when one will leave,
as there may be music, recitations, and so on, after the
dinner. It is now quite the fashion, as in London, to
ask people in after the dinner.

Everybody should go to a dinner intending to be
agreeable.

" E'en at a dinner some will be unblessed,
However good the viands, and well dressed ;
They always come to table with a scowl,
Squint with a face of verjuice o'er each dish,
Fault the poor flesh, and quarrel with the fish,
Curse cook, and wife, and loathing, eat and growl."

Such men should never be asked twice ; yet such were
Dr. Johnson, and later on, Abraham Hayward, the Eng-
lish critic, who were invited out every night of their
lives. It is a poor requital for hospitality, to allow any
personal ill-temper to interfere with the pleasure of the
feast. Some hostesses send around the champagne early
to unloose the tongues ; and this has generally a good
effect if the party be dull. Excessive heat in a room is
the most benumbing of all overweights. Let the hostess
have plenty of oxygen to begin with.

For a little dinner of eight we might suggest that the
hostess write : —

Dear Mrs. Sullivan, — Will you and Mr. Sullivan dine with
us on Thursday at half-past seven to meet Mr. and Mrs. Evarts,
quite informally ?

Ever yours truly,

Mary Montgomery.

This accepted, which it should be in the first person,
cordially, as it is written, let us see what we would have
for dinner : -^

92 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Sherry. Soup. Sorrel, d. Pesseiice de veau.

Lobsters, saute h la Bonnefoy. Chablis.

Veal Cutlets, a la Zingara.

Fried sweet potatoes. Champagne.

Roast Red-Head Ducks. Currant jelly.

Claret. Curled Celery in glasses. Olives.

Cheese. Salad.

Frozen Pudding.

Grapes.
Coffee. Liqueurs.

Or. if you please, a brown soup, a white fish or bass,
boiled, a saddle of mutton, a pair of prairie chickens
and salad, a plate of broiled mushrooms, a sorbet of
Maraschino, cheese, ice-cream, fruit. It is not a bad
"look-out," is it?

How well the Italians understand the little dinner !
They are frugal but conscientious diners until they get to
the dessert?

Their dishes have a relish of the forest and the field.
First comes wild boar, stewed in a delicious condiment
called sour-sweet sauce, composed of almonds, pistachio
nuts, and plums. Quails, with a twang of aromatic herbs,
are followed by maccaroni flavoured with spiced livers,
cocks' combs, and eggs called risotto, then golden /r///^^,
cooked in the purest C7'u of olive oil, and quocchi cakes,
of newly ground Indian corn, which is all that our
roasted green corn is, without the trouble of gnawing it
off the cob, — a process abhorrent to the conscientious
diner unless he is alone. One should first take monastic
vows of extreme austerity before he eats the forbidden
fruit, onion, or the delicious corn. But when we can
conquer Italian cooking, we can eat these two deliciou5

CONSCIENTIOUS DINERS. 93

things, nor fear to whisper to our best friend, nor fear to
be seen eating.

The triumphs of the dolce belong also to the Italians.
Their sugared fruits, ices, and pastry are all matchless ;
and their wines, Chianti, Broglio, and Vino Santo, a kind
of Malaga, as " frankly luscious as the first grape can
make it," are all delicious.

VARIOUS MODES OF GASTRONOMIC
GRATIFICATION.

Phyllis, I have a cask full of Albanian wine upwards of nine
years old ; I have parsley in the garden for the weaving of chap-
lets. The house shines cheerfully with plate ; all hands are busy.

Horace, Ode XI.

SOME old French wit spoke of an " idea which
could be canonized." Perhaps yet we may have a
Saint Table-Cloth. There have been worse saints than
Saint Table-Cloth and clean linen, since the days of
Louis XIII !

We notice in the old pictures of feasting that the
table-cloth was of itself a picture, — lace, in squares,
blocks, and stripes, sometimes only lace over a colour,
but generally mixed with linen.

It was the highest ambition of the Dutch housewife to
have much double damask of snowy whiteness in her
table-linen chest. That is still the grand reliable table-
linen. No one can go astray who uses it.

Table-linen is now embroidered in coloured cottons,
or half of its threads are drawn out and it is then sewed
over into lace-work. It is then thrown over a colour,
generally bright red. But pale lilac is more refined,
and very becoming to the lace-work.

Not a particle of coarse food must go on that table-
cloth. Everything must be brought to each guest from
the broad, magnificent buffet ; all must be served a Ic^

MODES OF GASTRONOMIC GRATIFICATION. 95

Russe from behind a grand, impenetrable screen, which
should fence off every dining-room from the butler's
pantry and the kitchen. All that goes on behind that
screen is the butler's business, and not ours. The butler
is a portly man, presumably, with a clean-shaven face, of
English parentage. He has the key of the wine-cellar and
of the silver-chest, two heavy responsibilities ; for nowa-
days, not to go into the question of the wines, the silver-
chest is getting weighty. Silver and silver-gilt dishes,
banished for some years, are now reasserting their pre-
eminent fitness for the dinner-table. The plates may
be of solid silver; so are the high candlesticks and
the salt-cellars, of various and beautiful designs after
Benvenuto Cellini.

Old silver is reappearing, and happy the hostess
who has a real Queen Anne teapot. The soup-tureen
of silver is again used, and so are the old beer-
mugs. Our Dutch ancestors were much alive to good
silver ; he may rejoice who, joking apart, had a Dutch
uncle. I, for one, do not like to eat off a metalUc
plate, be it of silver or gold. It is disagreeable to hear
the knife scrape on it, even with the delicate business
of cutting a morsel of red canvas-back. Gastronomic
gratification should be so highly refined that it trembles
at a crumpled rose-leaf. Porcelain plates seem to be
perfect, if they have not on them the beautiful head of
Lamballe. Nobody at a dinner desires to cut her head
off again, or to be reminded of the French Revolution.
Nor should we hurry. A master says, " I have arrived
at such a point that if the calls of business or pleasure
did not interpose, there would be no fixed date for find-
ing what time might elapse between the first glass of
sherry and the final Maraschino,"

9^ THE ART OF ENTERT AlNlNC^.

However, the pleasures of a dinner may be too pro-
longed. Men like to sit longer eating and drinking than
women ; so when a dinner is of both sexes it should not
continue more than one hour and a half. Horace, that
prince of diners, objected to the long-drawn-out meal.
"Then we drank, each as much as he felt the need,"
meant no orgy amongst the Greeks.

But if the talk lingers after the biscuit and cheese the
hostess need not interrupt it.

Talleyrand is said to have introduced into France the
custom of taking Parmesan with the soup, and the Madeira
after it.

There are many conflicting opinions about the proper
place for the cheese in order of serving. The old
fashion was to serve it last. It is now served with, or
after, the salad. "A dessert without cheese is like a
beautiful woman with one eye," says an old gourmet.

" Eat cheese after fruit, to prepare the palate for fresh
wine," says another.

'•After melon, wine is a felon."

If it is true that " an American devours, an English-
man eats, and a Frenchman dines," then we must take
the French fashion and give the cheese after the salad.

Toasted cheese savouries are very nice. The Roman
punch should be served just before the game. It is a
very refreshing interlude. Some wit called it at Mrs.
Hayes' dinners " the life-saving station."

When the ices are removed a dessert-plate of glass,
with a finger-bowl, is placed before each person, with
two glasses, one for sherry, one for claret, or Burgundy ;
and the grapes, peaches, pears, and other fruits are then
passed.

The hostess makes the sign for retiring to a salon per-

MODES OF GASTRONOMIC GRATIFICATION. 9/

haps rich with magnificent hangings of old gold, with
pictures, with vases of Dresden, of Sevres, of Kiota, with
statuary, and specimens of Capo di Monti. There coffee
may be brought and served by the footmen in cups which
Catherine of Russia might have given to Potemkin. The
gendemen, in England and America, remain behind to
smoke.

There is much exquisite porcelain in use in the opulent
houses of America. It is getting to be a famous fad
with us, and nothing adds more to one's pleasure in a
good dinner than to have it served on pretty plates. And
let us learn to say ''footman," and not "waiter;" the
latter personage belongs to a club or a hotel. It would
prevent disagreeable mistakes if we would make this
correction in our ordinary conversation.

In the arrangement of a splendid dinner let us see
what should be the bill of fare.

This is hard to answer, as the delicacies vary with the
season. But we will venture on one : —

Oysters on the half-shell.
Sherry. Soups :

Crhne iVAsperges^ Julienne.

Fish : Chablis.

Fried Smelts, or Salmon.

Fresh Cucumbers.

Champagne. Filet de Boeiif, with Truffles Claret.

and Mushrooms.

Fried Potatoes.

Entrees :

Poulet a la Marechale. Petits Pois,

Timbale de Macaroni.

Sweetbreads.
Vegetables. Artighokea.

7

98 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Sorbet. Roman Punch.

Steinberger. Game :

Canvas-back or Wild Duck with Currant Jelly.

Quail with Water-Cresses.

Salad of Lettuce. Salad of Tomato.

Rudesheimer. Pate de foie gras.

Hot dessert :

Cabinet Pudding.

Cold dessert :

Crhne glade aiix tuttifrutti.

Marron glacis. Cakes. Preserved ginger.

Madeira. Cheese. Port.

Cafe. Cordials.

I apologize to my reader for mixing thus French and
English. It is a vulgar habit, and should be avoided.
But it is almost impossible to avoid it when speaking
of a dinner; the cooks being French, the menus are
written in French, and the names of certain dishes are
usually written in French. Now all people undersitand
French, or should do so. If they do not, it is very easy
to learn that the " vol au vent de volaille " is simply
chicken pie, that potatoes are still potatoes under what-
ever alias they are served, and so on.

No such dinner as this can be well served in a private
house unless the cook is a chef, a cordon bleu, — here we
must use French again, — and unless the service is perfect
this dinner will be a failure. It is better to order such a
dinner from Delmonico's or Sherry's or from the best
man you can command. Do not attempt and fail.

But the little dinners given by housekeepers whose
service is perfect are apt to be more eatable and palata-
ble than the best dinner from a restaurant, where all the
food is cooked by gas, and tastes alike.

MODES OF GASTRONOMIC GRATIFICATION. Q^

The number of guests is determined by the size of
the room. The etiquette of entering the dining-room is
this : the host goes first, with the most distinguished
lady. The hostess follows last, with the most distin-
guished gentleman.

Great care and attention must be observed in seating
the guests. This is the province of the hostess, who
must consider the subject carefully. All this must be
written out, and a diagram made of the table. The name
of each lady is written on a card and enclosed in an
envelope, on the outside of which is inscribed the name
of the gentleman who has the honour to take her in.
This envelope must be given each man by the servant in
the dressing-room, or he must find it on the hall table.
Then, with the dinner-card at each place, the guests find
their own places.

The lady of the house should be dressed and in the
drawing-room at least five minutes before the guests are
to arrive, which should be punctually. How long must a
hostess wait for a tardy guest? Only fifteen minutes.

It is well to say to the butler, " Dinner must be served
at half-past seven," and the guests may be asked at
seven. That generally ensures the arrival of all before
the fish is spoiled. Let the company then go in to din-
ner, allowing the late-comer to follow. He must come in
alone, blushing for his sins. These facts may help a
hostess : No great dinner in Europe waits for any one ;
royalty is always punctual. In seating your guests do
not put husband and wife, sisters or relatives together.

An old courtesy book of 1290 says : —

*' Consider about placing
Each person in the post that befits him.
Between relations it behooves
To place others midway sometimes."

100 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

We should respect the superstitions of the dmner- table.
No one should be helped twice to soup; it means an
early death. Few are free from the feeling that thirteen
is an unlucky number ; so avoid that, as no one wishes
to make a guest uncomfortable. As we have said, Gasthea
is an irritable muse ; she must be flattered and pam-
pered. No one must put salt on another's plate. There is
a strong prejudice against spilling the salt ; but evil conse-
quences can be avoided by throwing a pinch of salt over
the left shoulder.

These remarks may seem frivolous to those unhappy
persons who have not the privilege of being superstitious.
It gives great zest to life to have a few harmless supersti-
tions. It is the cheese /<?;z^// of the mental faculties ; and
we may add that a consideration of these maxims,
handed down from a glorious past of gastronomes, con-
tributes to the various modes of gastronomic gratification.
We must remember that the tongue of man, by the deli-
cacy of its structure, gives ample evidences of the high
functions to which it is destined. The Roman epicures
cultivated their taste so perfectly that they could tell if a
fish were caught above or below a bridge. Organic per-
fection, epicureanism, or the art of good living, belongs to
man alone. The pleasure of eating is the only one,
taken in moderation, which is common to every time,
age, and condition, which is enjoyed without fatigue or
danger, which must be repeated two or three times a day.
It can combine with our other pleasures, or console us
for their loss.

" Un bo7i difier, c'est un consolation pour les illusions
perdusT And we have an especial satisfaction, when in
the act of eating, that we are prolonging our existence,
and enabling ourselves to become good citizens whilst
enjoying ourselves.

MODES OF GASTRONOMIC GRATIFICATION. lOI

Thus the pleasures of the table, the act of dining, the
various modes of gastronomic gratification should re-
ceive our most respectful consideration. '* Let the soup
be hot, and the wines cool. Let the coffee be perfect,
and the liqueurs chosen with peculiar care. Let the
guests be detained by the social enjoyment, and ani-
mated with the hope that before the evening is over there
is still some pleasure in store."

Our modern hostesses who understand the art of
entertaining often have music, or some recitations, in
the drawing-room after the dinner; and in England it is
often made the occasion of an evening party.

Thus gourmandize is that social love of good dinners
which combines in one Athenian elegance, Roman lux-
ury, and Parisian refinement. It implies discretion to
arrange, skill to prepare, and taste to direct. It cannot
be done superficially, and if done well it takes time, ex-
perience, and care. " To be a success, a dinner must be
thought out."

" By right divine, man is the king of nature, and all
that the earth produces is for him. It is for him that
the quail is fattened, the grape ripened. For him alone
the Mocha possesses so agreeable an aroma, for him the
sugar has such wholesome properties."

He, and he alone, banquets in company, and so far
from good living being hurtful to health, Brillat Savarin
declares that the gourmets have a larger dose of vitality
than other men. But they have their sorrows, and the
worst of them is a bad dinner, — an ill-considered, wretch-
edly composed, over-burdened repast, in which there is
little enjoyment for the brain, and a constant disappoint-
ment to the palate.

" Let the dishes be exceedingly choice and but few in

102 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

number, and the wines of the best quahty. Let the
order of serving be from the more substantial to the
Hghter." Let the eating proceed without hurry or bustle,
since the dinner is the last business of the day ; and let
the guests look upon themselves as travellers about to
reach the same destination together.

A dinner is not, as we see, a matter of butler or chef
alone. " It is the personal trouble which a host and
hostess are willing to take ; it is the intimate association
of a cultivated nature with the practical business of en-
tertaining, which makes the perfect dinner.

*' Conviviality concerns everything, hence it produces
fruits of all flavours. All the ingenuity of man has
been for centuries concentrated upon increasing and in-
tensifying the pleasures of the table."

The Greeks used flowers to adorn vases and to crown
the guests. They ate under the vault of heaven, in
gardens, in groves, in the presence of all the marvels of
nature. To the pleasures of the table were joined the
charms of music and the sound of instruments. Whilst
the court of the king of the Phoenicians were feasting,
Phenius, a minstrel, celebrated the deeds of the warriors
of bygone times. Often, too, dancers and jugglers and
comic actors, of both sexes and in every costume, came
to engage the eye, without lessening the pleasures of the
table.

We eat in heated rooms, too much heated perhaps, and
brilliantly lighted, as they should be. The present fancy
for shaded lamps, and easily ignitible shades, leads to im-
promptu conflagrations which are apt to injure Saint
Table-Cloth. That poor martyr is burned at the steak
quite too often. Our dancers and jugglers are introduced
after dinner, not during dinner; and we have our war-

MODES OF GASTRONOMIC GRATIFICATION. IO3

riors at the table amongst the guests. Nor do we hire
Phenius, a minstrel, to discourse of their great deeds.

I copy from a recent paper the following remarks.
Mr. Elbridge T. Gerry, says : *' There are in society some
newly admitted members who, with the best intentions
imaginable, are never able to do things in just the proper
style. They are persons of wealth, fairly good breeding
and possessed of a desire to entertain. With all the
good-humoured witticisms that the newspapers indulge
in on this subject, it is nevertheless a fact that the art
of entertaining requires deep and careful study, as well
as natural aptitude."

Some of the greatest authors have stated this in poetry
and prose.

'^ A typical member of this new class recently gave a
dinner to a number of persons in society. It was a very
dull affair. There was prodigality in everything, but no
taste, and no refinement. The fellow amused me by
telling us he had no trouble in getting up a fine dinner ;
he had only to tell his butler and chef to get up a meal
for so many persons, and the whole thing was done.
There are few persons fortunate enough to possess chefs
and butlers of that kind ; he certainly was not. Of the
persons who attended his dinner, nine out of ten were
displeased and will never attend another. It does not
take long for the experienced member of society to
know whether a host or hostess is qualified to entertain,
and the climbers soon find it a hard piece of business to
secure guests."

But on the other hand, we can reason that so fond of
the various modes of gastronomic gratification is the
human race, that the dinner giver is a very popular
variety of the genus homo ; nor does the host or hostess

104 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

generally find it a hard matter to secure guests. Indeed
there is a vulgar proverb to the effect that if the Devil
gives a ball, all the angels will go to it.

" If you want an animal to love you, feed it." So
that the host can stand a great deal of criticism. We
should, however, take a hint from the Arabs, nor abuse
the salt ; it is almost worse than spilling it.

Lady Morgan described the cookery of France as
being " the standard and gauge of modern civilization ; "
and when, during the peace which followed Waterloo,
Brillat Savarin turned his thoughts to the aesthetics of the
dinner-table, he probably added more largely to the
health and happiness of the human race than any other
known philanthropist. We must not forget what had
gone before in the developments and refinements of the
reigns of Louis XIV., XV., and the Regent; we must
not forget the honour done to gastronomy by such
statesmen as Colbert, such soldiers as Cond^, nor by
such a wit and beauty as Madame de Sevign^.

OF SOUPS.

" Oh, a splendid soup is the true pea-green,

I for it often call,
And up it comes, in a smart tureen,

When I dine in my banquet hall.
When a leg of mutton at home is boiled,

The liquor I always keep,
And in that liquor, before 'tis spoiled,

A peck of peas I steep ;
When boiled till tender they have been
I rub through a sieve the peas so green.

" Though the trouble the indolent may shock,

I rub with all my power.
And having returned them to the stock,

I stew them for an hour ;
Of younger peas I take some more,

The mixture to improve,
Thrown in a little time before

The soup from the fire I move.
Then seldom a better soup is seen
Than the old familiar soup pea-green."

HE best of this poetical recipe is that it is not
only funny, but a capital formula.

" The giblet may tire, the gravy pall,

And the truth may lose its charm;
But the green pea triumphs over them all
And does not the slightest harm."

Some of us, however, prefer turtle. It would seem
sometimes as if turtle soup were the synonym for a good
dinner, and as if it dated back to the days of good

T

106 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Queen Bess. But fashion did not set its seal on turtle
soup until about seventy years ago ; as an entry in the
" Gentleman's Magazine " mentions cahpash and cali-
pee as rarities. It is now inseparable from the Lord
Mayor's dinner. When we notice ninety-nine recipes for
soup in the latest French cookery book, and when we see
the fate of a dinner made or marred by the first dish, we
must concede that it will be a stumbling-block to the
young housekeeper.

Add to that the curious fact that no Irishwoman can
make a good soup until she has been taught by years of
experience, and we have the first problem in the danger-
ous process of dinner-giving staring us in the face. A
greasy, watery, ill-considered soup will take away the
appetite of even a hungry man ; while a delicate white
or brown soup, or the purees of peas and asparagus, may
weh whet the appetite of the most pampered gourmet.

The subject of soup-making may well be studied. A
good soup is at once economical and healthful, and of the
first importance in the construction of a dinner. Soup
should be made the day before it is to be eaten, by
boiling either a knuckle of veal for a white soup, three
or four pounds of beef, with the bone well cracked, for a
clear consomme, or by putting the bones of fish, chickens,
and meat into water with salt and pepper, and thus
making an economical soup, which may, however, be
very good. The French put everything into the soup pot,
— bones, scraps, pot liquor, the water in which onions
have been boiled, in fact in which all vegetables includ-
ing beans and potatoes have been boiled ; even as a
French writer says " rejected MSS. may be thrown into
the soup pot ; " and the result in France is always good.
It is to be observ^ed that every soup should be allowed

OF SOUPS. 107

to cool, and all the fat should be skimmed off, so that
the residuum may be as clear as wine.

Delicate soups, clear consomme, and white soups a la
Reifie, are great favourites in America, but in England
they make a strong, savoury article, which they call gravy
soup. It is well to know how to prepare this, as it
makes a variety.

Cut two pounds of beef from the neck into dice, and fry
until brown. Break small two or three pounds of bones, and
fry lightly. Bones from which streaked bacon has been cut
make an excellent addition, but too many must not be used»
lest the soup be salt. SHce and fry brown a pound of onions,
put them with the meat and bones and three quarts of cold
water into the soup pot; let it boil up, andhaving skimmed
add two large turnips, a carrot cut in slices, a small bundle
of sweet herbs, and a half a dozen pepper-corns. Let the
soup boil gently for four or five hours, and about one hour
before it is finished add a little piece of celery, or celery-seed
tied in muslin. This is a most delicious flavour. When
done, strain the soup and set it away for a night to get cold.
Remove the fat and next day let it boil up, stirring in two
spoonfuls of corn starch, moistened with cold water. Season
with salt and pepper to taste, not too salt; add forcemeat
balls to the soup, and you have a whole dinner in your
soup.

An oxtail soup is made like the above, only adding
the tail, which is divided into joints, which are fried
brown. Then these joints should be boiled until the
meat comes easily off the bones. When the soup is
ready put in two lumps of sugar, a glass of port wine,
and pour all into the tureen.

The Julienne soup, so delicious in summer, should be
a nice clear stock, with the addition of prepared vege-
tables. Unless the cook can buy the excellent com-

108 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

pressed vegetables which are to be had at the Italian
warehouses, it is well to follow this order : —

Wash and scrapa a large carrot, cut away all the yellow
parts from the middle, and slice the red outside. Take an
equal quantity of turnips and three small onions, cut in a
similar manner. Put them in a stewpan with two ounces of
butter and a pinch of powdered sugar, stir over the fire until
a nice brown colour, then add a quart of clear, well-flavoured
stock, and let all simmer together gently for three hours.
When done, skim the fat off very carefully, and ten minutes
before serving add a lettuce cut in shreds and blanched for
a minute in boiling water. Simmer for five minutes and the
soup will be ready. This is a most excellent soup if well
made.

Mock-turtle soup is easily made : —

Boil the bones of the head three hours, add a piece of
gravy meat cut in dice and fried brown, three onions sliced
and fried brown, a carrot, a turnip, celery, and a small
bundle of sweet herbs ; boil gently for three hours and take
off the fat. When it is ready to be served add a glass of
sherry and slices of lemon. The various parts of a calf s-
head can be cooked and used as forcemeat balls, and made
to look exactly like turtle. This soup is found canned and
is almost as good as the real article.

Dried-pea soup, creme d'asperge, and bean soup, in
fact all the pinres, are very healthful and elegant soups.
The pia-ee .is the mashed mass of pea or bean, which is
added to the stock.

Boil a pint of large peas in a quart of water with a sprig
of parsley or mint, and a dozen or so of green onions.
When the peas are done strain and rub them through a
sieve, put the puree back into the liquor the peas were
boiled in, add a pint of good veal or beef broth, a lump of
sugar, and pepper and salt to taste. Let the soup get
thoroughly hot without boiling, stir in an ounce of good
butter, and the soup is ready.

OF SOUPS. 109

A plain but quick and delicious soup may be made
by using a can of corn, with a small piece of pork.
This warmed up quickly, with a little milk added, is very
good.

As for a C7'h7ie {fasperge, it is better to employ a chef
to teach the new cook.

Mulligatawny soup is a visitor from India. It should
not be too strong of curry powder for the average
taste. The stock should be made of chicken or veal,
or the liquor in which chickens have been boiled.

Slice and fry in butter six large onions, add four sharp,
sour apples, cored and quartered, but not peeled. Let them
boil in a little of the stock until quite tender, then mix with
them a quarter of a pound of flour, and a small teaspoonful
of curry powder. Take a quart of the stock and when the
SQ^p has boiled skim it ; let it simmer for half an hour, then
carefully take off all the fat, strain the soup, and rub the
onions through a sieve. When ready to heat the soup
for the dinner-table add any pieces of meat or chicken cut
into small, delicate shapes. When these have been boiled
together for ten minutes the soup will be ready ; salt to taste.
Boiled rice should be sent in on a separate dish.

Sorrel soup is a great favourite with the French people.
We do not make enough of sorrel in this country; it
adds an excellent flavour.

Carefully wash a pound of sorrel, and having picked,
cut it in shreds, put it into a stewpan with two ounces of
fresh butter and stir it over the fire for ten minutes. Stir in
an ounce of flour, mix well together and add a pint and a
half of good white stock made as for veal broth. Let it
simmer for half an hour. Having skimmed the soup, stir in
the yolks of three eggs beaten up in half a pint of milk or
cream. Stir in a little pat of butter, and when dissolved
pour the whole over thin pieces of toasted bread into the
tureen.

110 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

With the large family of the broths every housewife
should become acquainted. They are invaluable for the
sick, especially broths of chicken and mutton. For veal
broth the following is an elaborate, but excellent recipe :

Get three or four pounds of scrag, or a knuckle of veal,
chopped into small pieces, also a ham bone, or slice of ham,
and cover with water ; let it boil up, skim it until no more
rises. Put in four or five onions, a turnip, and later a bit of
celery or celery seed tied in muslin, a little salt, and white
pepper. Let it boil gently for four hours ; strain the gravy
and having taken off all the fat return the residue to the pot
and let it boil ; then slightly thicken with corn flour, about
one teaspoonful to a quart of soup ; let it simmer before
serving. Three pounds of veal should make two quarts of
good soup.

A sheep's-head soup is famous all over Scotland and
is made as follows : —

Get the head of a sheep with the skin on, soak it in tepid
water, take out the tongue and brains, break all the thin
bones inside the cheek, and carefully wash it in several
waters ; put it on in a quart of water with a teaspoonful of
salt and let it boil ten minutes. Pour away this water and
put two quarts more with one pound of a scrag of mutton ;
add, cut up, six onions, two turnips, two carrots, a sprig of
parsley, and season with pepper and salt. Let it boil gently
for four or five hours, when the head and neck will not be too
much cooked for the family dinner, and may be served either
with parsley or onion sauce. It is a most savoury morsel.
Strain the soup, and let it cool so as to remove every particle
of fat. Rub the vegetables through a sieve to a fine puree.
Mix a tablespoonful of flour in a quarter of a pint of milk;
make the soup boil up and stir it in with the vegetables.

Have the tongue boiled until it is very tender, skin and
trim it, have the brains also well cooked, and chop and pound
them very fine with the tongue, mix them with an equal
weight of sifted bread-crumbs, a tablespoonful of chopped

OF SOUPS. Ill

green parsley, pepper, salt, and egg, and if necessary a small
quantity of flour to enable you to roll the mixture into little
balls. Put an ounce of butter into a small frying-pan and
fry the balls until a nice brown, lay them on paper before
the fire to drain away all the fat, and put them into the soup
after it is poured into the tureen. Scald and chop some green
parsley and serve separately on a plate.

Thackeray thought so much of a boiled sheep's head
that he made it the point of one of his humorous

poems.

" By that grand vow that bound thee
Forever to my side,
And by the ring that made thee

My darling and my bride !
Thou wilt not fail or falter

But bend thee to the task —
A boiled sheep's head on Sunday
Is all the boon I ask ! "

In France, cabbage is much used in soup.
" Ha, what is this that rises to my touch
So like a cushion — can it be a cabbage ?
It is, it is, that deeply inspired flower
Which boys do flout us with, but yet — I love thee,
Thou giant rose, wrapped in a green surtout.
Doubtless in Eden thou didst blush as bright
As these thy puny brethren, and thy breath
Sweetened the fragrance of her spicy air ;
And now thou seemst like a bankrupt beau
Stripped of his gaudy hues and essences,
And growing portly in his sober garments."

The cabbage is without honour in America ; and yet if
boiled in water which is thrown away, having absorbed
all its grosser essences, and then boiled again and
chopped and dressed with butter and cream, it is an
excellent vegetable. Its disagreeable odour has led to
its expulsion from many a house, but corn-beef and cab-
bage are not to be despised.

112 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Cauliflower, which Thackeray calls the " apotheosis of
cabbage," is the most delicate of vegetables ; and a
puree of cauliflower shall close onr chapter on soups.

Boil in salted water, using a small piece of butter, two
heads of cauliflower, drain and pass them through a colander,
dilute with two quarts of sauce and a quart of chicken broth,
season with salt, white pepper, and grated nutmeg. Add a
teaspoonful of fine white sugar, then pass the whole forcibly
with a wooden presser through a fine sieve, — the finer the
sieve the better the puree. Put the residue in a stewpan, set
it on the fire, stir all the while till it boils, let it boil for ten
minutes, strain well, add a mixture made with the yolks of
six eggs and half a pint of cream, finish with four ounces of
table butter, and serve with small, fried, square croutons.

A puree of celery is equally excellent ; but all these
soups require an intelligent cook. It is better to have
one's cook taught to make soups by an expert, for it
is the most difficult of all the dishes, if thoroughly
good. The plain soup, free from grease and well
flavoured, is easy enough after a little training, *' but the
chief ingredient of soup is brains," according to a Lon-
don chef. It is, however, a good practice for an amateur
cook to experiment and to try these various recipes, all
of which are practicable.

FISH.

What is thy diet ? Canst thou gulf a shoal
Of herrings? Or hast thou gorge and room
To bolt fat porpoises and dolphins whole
By dozens, e'en as oysters we consume ?

Punch.
The world 's mine oyster, which I with sword will open.

Hotspur.

THE Egyptians, strange to say, did not deify fish,
that important article of their food. We read of
the enormous yield of Lake Moeris, which was dammed
up by the great Rameses, and whose draught of fishes
brought him so enormous a revenue.

One of the most fascinating of all the Egyptian
Queens, Sonivaphra, received the revenues of one of
these fisheries to keep her in shoe-strings, — probably
another name for pin money.

And yet the Egyptians, while mummying the cats
and dogs and beetles, and such small deer, made no
gods of the good carp or other fish which must have
stocked the river Nile. They emblazoned the crocodile
on their monuments, but never a fish. It is a singular
foreshadowing of that great vice of the human race,
ingratitude.

The Romans were fond of fish, and the records of
their gastronomy abound in fish stories. We read of
Licinius Crassus, the orator, that he lived in a house
of great elegance and beauty. This house was called the

8

114 THE ART Of entertaining.

" Venus of the Palatine," and was remarkable for its
size, the taste of the furniture, and the beauty of the
grounds. It was adorned with pillars of Hymettian
marbles, with expensive vases and triclinia inlaid with
brass ; his gardens were provided with fish-ponds, and
noble lotus-trees shaded his walks. Abenobarbus, his
colleague in the censorship, found fault with such luxury,
such " corruption of manners," and complained of his
crying for the loss of a lamprey as if it had been a
favourite daughter !

This, however, was a tame lamprey, which used to
come to the call of Crassus and feed out of his hand.
Crassus retorted by a public speech against his colleague,
and by his great power of ridicule turned him into de-
rision, jested upon his name, and to the accusation of
weeping for a lamprey, replied that it was more than
Abenobarbus had done for the loss of any of his three
wives !

In the sixteenth century, that golden age of the Vati-
can, the splendid court of Leo X. was the centre of ar-
tistic and literary life, and the witty and pleasure-loving
Pope made its gardens the scene of his banquets and
concerts, where he listened to the recitations of the
poets who sprung up under his protection. There be-
neath the shadow of the ilex and the lauristines, in a
circle so refined that ladies were admitted, Leo him-
self leaned on the shoulder of the handsome Raphael,
who was allowed to caress and admire the Medicean
white hand of his noble patron. We read that this fa-
mous Pope was so fastidious as to the fish dinners of
Lent, that he invented twenty different recipes for the
chowder of that day ! Walking in disguise with Raphael
through the fish-market, he espied a boy who, on his

FISH. 115

knees, was presenting a fish to a pretty contadina. The
scene took form and immortaUty in the famous Vierge
au Foissofi, in which, conducted by the Angel Gabriel,
the youthful Saint John presents the fish to the Virgin
and child, — a beautiful picture for the church whose
patron saint was a fisherman.

Indeed, that picture of the sea of Galilee, and the
sacred meaning attached to the etymology of the word
" fish," has given the finny wanderer of the seas a peculiar
and valuable personality. All this, with the selection by
our Lord of so many of his disciples from amongst the
fishermen, the many poetical associations which form
around this, the cheapest and most delicate form of food
with which the Creator has stocked this world of ours,
would, if followed out, afford a volume of suggestion,
quotation, poetry, and romance with which to embellish
the art of entertaining.

Fish is now believed to produce aliment for the brain,
and as such is recommended to all authors and editors,
statesmen, poets and lawyers, clergymen and mathema-
ticians,— all who draw on that finer fibre of the brain
which is used for the production of poetry or prose.

England is famed for its good fish, as why should it
not be, with the ocean around it? The turbot is, par
excellence, the fish for a Lord Mayor's dinner, and it is
admirable a la creme for anybody's dinner. Excellent
is the whitebait of Richmond, that fnysterious little
dwarf. Eaten with slices of brown bread and butter it
is a very delicious morsel, and the whiting, which always
comes to the table with his tail in his mouth, beautifully
browned outside, white as snow within, what so excellent
as a whiting, except a sole au gj-afin with sauce Tartare ?

Fresh herrings in Scotland are delicious, almost equal

Il6 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

to the red mullets which Caesar once ate at Marseilles.
The fresh sardines at Nice, and all along the Mediterra-
nean, are very delicate, as are the thousand shell-fish.
The langoose, or large lobster of France and the Medi-
terranean, is a surprise to the American traveller. Not
so delicate as our American lobster, it still is ad-
mirable for a salad. It is so large that the flesh —
if a fish has flesh — can be sliced up and served like
cold roast turkey.

The salmon, king of fish, inspires in his capture, in
Scotland rivers, in Labrador, in Canada, some of the
best writing of the day. William Black, in Scotland, and
Dr. Wier Mitchell, of Philadelphia, can tell stories of
salmon-fishing which are as brilliant as Victor Hugo's
description of Waterloo, or of that mysterious jelly-fish
in his novel, " The Toilers of the Sea."

The New York market boasts the red snapper, the
sheepshead, the salmon, the salmon-trout, the Spanish
mackerel, most toothsome of viands, the sea bass, cod,
halibut, the shad, the greatest profusion of excellent
oysters and clams, the cheap pan-fish, and endless
eels. The French make many fine dishes of eels, as the
Romans did.

To be good, fish must be fresh. It is absolutely in-
dispensable, to retain certain flavours, that the fish should
go from one element to another, out of the water into
the fire, and on!b the gridiron or into the frying pan as
soon as possible. Therefore, if the housewife has a fish
seasonable and fresh, :and a gridiron, she can make a
good dish for a hungry man.

We shaU begin with the cheapest of the products of
the water, and although they may squirm out of our
hands, try to bring to the table the despised eels,

FISH. 117

An old proverb said that matrimony was a bag in
which there were ninety-nine snakes and one eel, and
the young lady who put her hand into this agreeable
company had small chance at the eel. It would seem at
first blush as if no one would care particularly for the
eel. In old England, eels were exceedingly popular, and
the monks dearly loved to feed upon them. The cellar-
ist of Barking Abbey, Essex, in the ancient times of
monastic foundations, was, amongst other eatables, to
provide stewed eels in Lent and to bake eels on Shrove
Tuesday. There were artificial receptacles made for
eels. The cruel custom of salting eels alive is men-
tioned by some old writers.

'* When the old serpent appeared in the guise of a
stewed eel it was impossible to resist him."

Eels €71 matelote should be cut in three-inch pieces, and
salted ; fry an onion brown in a little dripping, add half a
pint of broth to the brown onion, part of a bay leaf, six
broken pepper-corns, four whole cloves, and a gill of claret.
Add the eels to this and simmer until thoroughly cooked.
Remove the eels, put them on a hot dish, add a teaspoonful
of brown flour to the sauce, strain and pour over the eels.
Spatch-cooked eels are good.

Fricasseed eels : Cut three pounds of eels into pieces of
three inches in length, put them into a stewpan, and cover
them with Rhine wine, or two thirds water and one third
vinegar ; add fifteen oysters, two pieces of lemon, a bouquet
of herbs, one onion quartered, six cloves, three stalks of
celery, a pinch of cayenne pepper, and salt to taste. Stew
the eels one hour, remove them from the dish, strain the
liquor. Put it back into the saucepan with a gill of qream
and an ounce of butter rolled in flour, simmer gently a few
minutes, pour over the fish, and you have a dish for a king.

Stewed eels are great favourites with gourmets, cooked
9-S follows : —

Il8 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Cut into three-inch pieces two pounds of medium-sized
cleaned eels. Rub the inside of each piece with salt. Let
them stand half an hour, then parboil them. Boil an onion
in a quart of milk and remove the onion. Drain the eels
from the water and add them to the milk. Season with half
a teaspoonful of chopped parsley, salt and pepper, and the
smallest bit of mace. Simmer until the flesh falls from the
bones.

Fried eels should be slightly salted before cooking.
Do not cover them with batter, but dredge them with
just flour enough to absorb all moisture, then cover them
v/ith boiling lard.

As for the thousand and one recipes for cooking an
oyster, no one need tell an American hostess much on
that subject. Raw, roasted, boiled, stewed, scalloped
and baked in patties, what so savoury as the oyster?
They should be bought alive, and opened with care by
an expert, for the bits of shell are dangerous. If eaten
raw, pieces of lemon should be served with them. Plates
of majolica to hold five or seven oysters are now to be
bought at all the best crockery stores.

To stew oysters well, cream and butter should be
added, and the whole mixture done in a silver dish over
an alcohol lamp. Broiled oysters should be dipped first
in melted butter, then in bread crumbs, then put in a
very fine wire gridiron, and broiled over a bright bed of
coals. Scalloped oysters should be carefully dried with
a clean napkin, then laid in a deep dish on a bed of
crumbs and fresh butter, all softened by the liquor of the
oyster ; a layer of oysters and a layer of crumbs should
follow each other, with little walnuts of butter put be-
tween. The mixture should be put in a very hot oven
and baked a delicate brown, but not dried.

The plain fried oyster is very popular, but it should not

FISM. 1 19

be cooked in small houses just before in entertainment,
as the odour is not appetizing, ^o dip them in egg
batter, then in bread-crumbs, and fry them in drippings
is a common and good fashion. A more elaborate
fashion is to beat up the yolks of four eggs with three
tablespoonfuls of sweet oil, and season them with a tea-
spoonful of salt, and a saltspoonful of cayenne pepper.
Beat up thoroughly, dip each oyster in this mixture and
then in bread crumbs, and fry in hot oil. The best and
most elegant way of cooking an oyster is, however, " a la
poti letter

Scald the oysters in their own liquor, drain them, and add
to the liquor, salt, half an ounce of butter, the juice of half a
lemon, a gill of cream, and a teaspoonful of dissolved flour.
Beat the yolk of one ^gg, and add to the sauce, stir until the
sauce thickens ; place the oysters on a hot dish, pour the
sauce over them, add a little chopped parsley and serve.

x\ simpler and more primitive but excellent way of
cooking oysters is to clean the shells thoroughly, and
place them in the coals in an open fireplace, or to roast
them in hot ashes until the shells snap open.

When the oyster departs then the clam takes his
place, and is delicious as an avant goiU or an appetizer
at a dinner. If clams are broiled they must be done
quickly, else they become hard and indigestible.

The soft-shell clam, scalloped, makes a good dish.
Clean the shells well, then put two clams to each shell,
with half a teaspoonful of minced celery. Cut a slice of
fat bacon small, add a little to each shell, put bread
crumbs on top and a little pat of butter, bake in the
oven until brown. A clam broth is a delicious and
healthful beverage for sick or well ; add cream and a
spoonful of sherry to it, and it becomes a fabulously fine

120 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

thing. In this mixture the clams must be strained out
before the cream and wine are added.

But if the clam is good what shall we say of crabs.
Hard-shell crabs must be boiled about twelve minutes,
drained, and set away to cool. Eaten with sandwiches
and a dressing they are considered a dehcacy for supper.
They can be more cooked with chopped eggs, or treated
like a chicken pasty, and cooked in a paste shell they are
very good.

Take half an ounce of butter, half an onion minced,
half a pound of minced raw veal, and a small carrot
shredded, a chopped crab, a pint of boiling cream ; sim-
mer an hour, then strain into a saucepan, and what a
sauce you have !

The soft-shell crab is an invalid. He is caught when
he is helpless, feverish, and not at all, one would say,
healthy. He is killed by the jarring of the train, by
thunder, by some passing noisy cart, and some say by a
fall in stocks, or a sudden change in political circles.

Such sensitive creatures must be cooked as soon as
possible. It is only necessary to remove the feathery
substance under the pointed sides of the shells, rinse
them in cold water, drain, season with salt and pepper,
dredge them in flour and fry in hot fat. Crab patties
and crabs cooked in any other way than this fail to please
the epicure. Nothing with so pronounced an individual-
ity as a soft-shelled crab should be disguised.

A devilled crab is considered good, but it should be
cooked by a negro expert from Maryland.

Scallops are essentially good in stews, or fried, and
when, cut in small pieces, with a pint of milk, a little but-
ter, and a little salt, they again return to their beautiful
shells and are baked as a scallop, they are delicious.
Put in pork fat, and fried, they are also very fine.

FISH. 121

The lobster is now considered very healthful, and as
conveying more phosphorus into the human system than
any other fish. Broiled, devilled, stewed, cooked in a
fashion called Boiirdelaise, it is the most delicious of
dishes, and as a salad what can equal it?

A baked whitefish with Bordeaux sauce is very fine.

Clean and stuff the fish with bread-crumbs, onions, butter,
and sweet marjoram. Put it in a baking pan, add a liberal
quantity of butter previously rolled in flour, put in the pan a
pint of claret, and bake for an hour. Remove the fish and
strain the gravy, put in a teaspoonful of brown flour and a
pinch of cayenne pepper.

Halibut with an egg sauce and a border of parsley is
a dish for a banquet, only the cook must know how to
make egg sauce. Supposing we tell her?

Put two ounces of butter in a stew-pan ; when it melts, add
one ounce of flour. Stir for one minute or more, but do not
brown. Then add by degrees two gills of boiHng water,
stirring until smooth, and boiling about two minutes. If
not perfectly smooth, pass it through a sieve ; then add an-
other ounce of butter cut in pieces. When the butter is
melted, add three hard-boiled eggs, chopped not too fine,
season with pepper and salt, and serve immediately.

This sauce is admirable for cod, and for all boiled fish.

But the " perfectest thing on earth " is a broiled fish,
a shad for instance ; and one of the best preventives
against burning is to rub olive oil on the fish before
putting it on the gridiron. Charcoal affords the best
fire, and it must be free from all smoke and flame.

A little sweet butter, half a teaspoonful of chopped
parsley and the juice of a lemon should be melted
together, and stand ready to be poured over the broiled
fish.

Mr. Lowell, in one of his delightful, witty papers in the

122 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Atlantic Monthly years ago, regretted that he could not
find a gridiron near the St. Lawrence, although its patron
saint suffered martyrdom on that excellent kitchen
utensil. It is a lamentable fact that wood fires and
gridirons are giving out. They contain within them-
selves the merits of all the kitchen ranges, all the lost
juices of that early American cookery, which one who
has tasted it can never forget. Where are the broils of
our childhood ?

Codfish is a family stand-by, but a tasteless fish unless
covered with oysters or something very good ; but salt-
codfish balls are a great luxury.

Brook trout, boiled, baked, and broiled, are all inferior
to the fry. The frying-pan has to answer for a multitude
of sins, but nothing so base can be found as to deprive
it of its great glory in sending us a fried brook-trout.
"Clean and rinse a quarter-of-a-pound trout in cold
water," says one recipe.

Why not a pound -and-a-quarter trout? The recipe
begins later on : after some pork has been fried in the
pan, throw in ygur carefully cleaned fish, no matter what
their weight may be, turn them three times most care-
fully. Send to table without adding or detracting from
their flavour.

This is for the sportsman who cooks his trout himself
by a wood fire in the woods ; and no other man ever
arrives at just that perfect way of cooking a trout. When
the trout has come down from cooling springs to the hot
city, it requires a seasoning of salt, pepper, and lemon-
juice.

Frogs — frogs as cooked in France, grenouilles a la
poiilette — are a most luxurious delicacy. They are very
expensive and are to be bought at the inarche St

FISH. 123

Honore. As only the hind legs are eaten, and the price
is fifteen francs a dozen, they are not often seen. We
mi^ht have them in this country for the catching. Of
their tenderness, succulence, and delicacy of flavour there
can be no question. They are clean feeders, and un-
doubtedly wholesome.

Sala, writing in " Breakfasts in Bed " does not praise
bouillabaisse. He declares that the cooks plunge a roll-
ing-pin in tallow and then with it stir that pot pouni of
red mullet, tomatoes, red pepper, red Burgundy, oil, and
garlic to which Thackeray has written so delightful a
lyric. " Against fish soups, turtle, terrapin, oyster, and
bisque," he says, " I can offer no objection." The
Italians again have their good zuppa marinana, which
is not all like the bouillabaisse , and the Russians make a
very appetizing fish pottage which is called batwina, the
stock of which is composed of kraus, or half-brewed
barley beer, and oil. Into this is put the fish known as
the sterlet of the Volga, or the sassina of the Gulf of Fin-
land, together with bay leaves, pepper, and lumps of ice.
Baiwina is better than bouillabaisse.

THE SALAD.
" Epicurean cooks shall sharpen with cloyless sauce the appetite."

OF all the vegetables of which a salad can be made,
lettuce is the greatest favourite. That lettuce
which is pajiachee, says the Almanack des GoiirmandSy
that is, when it has streaked or variegated leaves, is truly
Mfie salade de disti7iction. We prefer in this country the
fine, crisp, solid little heads, of which the leaves are
bright green. The milky juices of the lettuce are sopo-
rific, like opium seeds, and predispose the eater to sleep,
or to repose of temper and to philosophic thought.

After, or before, lettuce comes the fragrant celery,
always an appetizer. Then the tomato, a noble fruit as
sweet in smell as Araby the blest, which makes an illus-
trious salad. Its medicinal virtue is as great as its gastro-
nomical goodness. It is the friend of the well, for it
keeps them well, and the friend of the sick, for it brings
them back to the lost sheep-folds of hygeia.

There are water-cress and dandelion, common mus-
tard, boiled asparagus, and beet root, potato salad,
beloved of the Germans, the cucumber, most fragrant
and delicate of salads, a salad of eggs, of lobsters, of
chickens, sausages, herrings, and sardines. Anything
that is edible can be made into a salad, and a vegetable
mixture of cold French beans, boiled peas, carrots and
potato, onion, green peppers, and cucumber, covered with

THE SALAD. I25

fresh mayonnaise dressing, is served ice cold in France,
to admiration.

To learn to make a salad is the most important of
qualifications for one who would master the art of
entertaining.

Here is a good recipe for the dressing : —

Two yolks of eggs, a teaspoonful of salt, and three of mus-
tard, — it should have been mixed with hot water before
using, — a httle cayenne pepper, a spoonful of vinegar ;
pound the eggs and mix well. Common vinegar is preferred
by many, but some like tarragon vinegar better. Stir this
gently for a minute, then add two full spoonfuls of best oil
of Lucca.

" A sage for the mustard, a miser for the vinegar, a spend-
thrift for the oil, and a madman to stir " is the old saw.
Add a teaspoonful of brown sugar, half a dozen little spring
onions cut fine, three or four slices of beet root, the white of
the egg, not cut too small, and then the lettuce itself, which
should be torn from the head stock by the fingers.

Some French salad dressers <s,z.y fatiguez la salade^ which
means, shake it, mix it, and bruise it; but the modern
arrangement is to delicately cover the leaves with the
dressing, and not to bruise them. This is an old-fash-
ioned salad.

An excellent salad of cold boiled potatoes cut into
slices about an inch thick, may be made with thin slices
of fresh beet root, and onions cut very thin, and very
little of them, with the same dressing, minus the sugar.

Francatelli speaks of a Russian salad with lobster, a
German salad with herrings, and an Italian salad with
potatoes ; but these come more under the head of the
mayonnaises than of the simpler salads.

The cucumber comes next to lettuce, as a purely
vegetable salad^ and is most desirable with fish. Pr,

126 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Johnson declared that the best thing you could do
with a cucumber, after you had prepared it with much
care and thought, was to throw it out of the window ;
but Dr. Johnson, although he could write Rasselas and a
dictionary, knew nothing about the art of entertaining.
He was an eater, a glutton, a gourmand, not a gou7'jiiet.
Plow should he dare to speak against a cucumber salad?

Endive and chiccory should be added to the list of
vegetable salads. Neither of them is good, however.

An old-fashioned French salad is made thus : " Chop
three anchovies, an onion, and some parsley small ; put
them in a bowl with two tablespoonfuls of vinegar, one
of oil, a little mustard and salt. When well mixed, add
some slices of cold roast beef not exceeding two or three
inches long. Make three hours before eating. Garnish
•with parsley." This is by no means a bad way of serv-
ing up yesterday's roast beef.

The etymology of salad is said to be " sal," or some-
thing salted. Shakspeare mentions the salad five or six
times. In Henry VI., Jack Cade, in his extremity of
peril when hiding from his pursuers in Ida's garden,
says he has climbed over the wall to see if he could eat
grass, or pick a salad, which he says " will not come amiss
to cool a man's stomach in the hot weather." In An-
tony and Cleopatra, the passionate queen speaks of her
*' salad days" when she was "green in judgment, cool
in blood." This means, however, something raw or
unripe. Hamlet uses the word with the more ancient
orthography of "sallet," and says in his speech to the
players, " I remember when there were no sallets in
these times to make them savoury." By this he meant
there was nothing piquant in them, no Attic salt. One
author, not so illustrious, claims that the noblest prerog-

THE SALAD. 12;;^

ative of man is that he is a cooking animal, and a salad
eater.

" The Hon is generous as a hero, the rat artful as a
lawyer, the dove gentle as a lover, the beaver is a good
engineer, the monkey is a clever actor, but none of them
can make a salad. The wisest sheep never thought
of culhng and testing his grasses, seasoning them with
thyme or tarragon, softening them with oil, exasperating
them with mustard, sharpening them with vinegar, spirit-
ualizing them with a suspicion of onions, in that no
sheep has made a salad. Their only sauce is hunger.

" Salads," says this pleasant writer, "were invented by
Adam and Eve, — probably made of pomegranates as
to-day in Spain."

Of all salads, lobster is the most picturesque and beau-
tiful. Its very scarlet is a trumpet tone to appetite. It
lies embedded in green leaves like a magnificent tropical
cactus. A good dressing for lobster is essence of an-
chovy, mushroom ketchup, hard-boiled eggs, and a little
cream.

Mashed potatoes, rubbed down with cream, or simply
mixed with vinegar, are no bad substitute for eggs, and
impart to the salad a new and not unpleasing flavour.
French beans, the most delicate of vegetables, give the
salad eater a new sensation. A dressing can be mixed
in the following proportions : " Four mustard ladles of
mustard, four salt ladles of salt. Three spoonfuls of
best Italian oil, twelve of vinegar, three unboiled eggs.
All are to be carefully rubbed together. This is for
those who like sours and not sweets. An old French
emigre, who had to make his living in England during
the time of the Regency, a man of taste and refinement,
an epicurean Marquis, carried to noblemen's houses his

12§ THE ART OF ENTERTAININC.

mahogany box full of essences, spices, and condiments,
and made his salad in this way : he chopped up three
anchovies with a little shallot and some parsley ; these
he threw into a bowl with a little mustard and salt, two
tablespoonfuls of oil, and one brimming over with vine-
gar. When thoroughly merged he added his lettuce, or
celery, or potato, extremely thin, short slices of best
Westphalia ham, or the finest roast beef, which he had
steeped in the vinegar. He garnished with parsley and
a few layers of bacon. This man was called Le Roi de
la salade.

A cod mayonnaise is a good dish : —

Boil a large cod in the morning. Let it cool ; then re-
move the skin and bones. For sauce put some thick cream
in a porcelain sauce-pan and thicken it with corn-flour
which has been mixed with cold water. When it begins to
boil stir in the beaten yolks of two eggs. As it cools beat it
well to prevent it from being lumpy, and when nearly cold
stir in the juice of two lemons, a little tarragon vinegar, a
pinch of salt, and a soupqo7i of cayenne pepper. Peel and
slice some very ripe tomatoes or cold potatoes, steep them
in vinegar with cayenne, pounded ginger, and plenty of salt.
Lay these around the fish and cover with ' cream sauce.
The tomatoes and potatoes should be carefully drained
before they are placed around the fish.

A salmon covered with a green sauce is a famous dish
for a ball supper ; indeed, there are thirty or forty salads
with a cold fish foundation.

This art of dressing cold vegetables with pepper, salt,
oil, and vinegar, should be studied. In France they give
you these salads to perfection at the dejeuner a la
fourchette. Fillippini, of Delmonico's, in his admirable
work, "The Table," adds Swedish salad. String Bean
Salad, Russian Salad^ Salad Macedoine, Escarolle^ Don-

THE SALAD. I29

cetfe, Dandelioii a la coiitoise^ Baib de Capucine, Cauli-
flower salad, and Salad a V Italian. I advise any young
housekeeper to buy this book of his, as suggestive. It
is too elaborate and learned, however, for practical
application to any household except one in which a
French cook is kept.

A mayonnaise dressing is a triumph of art when well
made : —

A tablespoonful of mustard, one teaspoonful of salt, the
yolk of three uncooked eggs, the juice of half a lemon, a
quarter of a cupful of butter, a pint of oil, and a cupful of
whipped cream. Beat the yolks and dry ingredients until
they are very light, with a wooden spoon or with a wire
beater. The bowl in which the dressing is being made
should be set in a pan of ice water. Add oil, a few drops
at a time, until the dressing becomes thick and rather hard.
After it has reached this stage the oil can be added more
rapidly. When it gets so thick as to be difficult to beat add
a little vinegar, then add the juice of the lemon and the
whipped cream, and place on ice until desired to be used.

Another dressing can be made more quickly : —

The yolk of a raw ^gg, a tablespoonful of mixed mustard,
one fourth of a teaspoonful of salt, six tablespoonfuls of oil.
Stir the yolk, mustard, and salt together with a fork until
they begin to thicken ; add the oil gradually, stirring all the
time.

An excellent salad dressing is also made by using the
yolk of hard-boiled eggs, some cold mashed potatoes
well pressed together with a fork, oil, vinegar, mustard,
and salt rubbed in, in the proportions of two of oil to
one of vinegar.

A salad must be fresh and freshly made, to be good.
Never serve a salad the second day ; and it is not well to
cover a delicate salad with too much mayonnaise. The

9

I30 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

very heart of the celery or the delicate inner leaves of
the lettuce are the best for dinners. The heavy chicken
and lobster, cabbage and potato salads, are dishes for
lunches and suppers.

The chief employment of a kitchen maid, in France,
where a man cook is kept, is to wash the vegetables ;
and you see her swinging the salad in a wire safe after
washing it delicately in fresh water. The care bestowed
on these minor morals of cookery, so often wholly neg-
lected, adds the finishing touch to the excellence of a
French dinner.

For a green mayonnaise dressing, so much admired on
salmon, use a little chopped spinach and finely chopped
parsley. The juice from boiled beets can be used to
make a fine red dressing. Two of these dishes will
make a plain, country lunch- table very nice, and will have
an appetizing effect, as has anything that betokens care,
forethought, neatness, and taste.

Some people cannot eat oil. Often the best oil can-
not be bought in a retired and rural neighbourhood. But
an excellent substitute is fresh butter or clarified chicken-
fat, very carefully prepared, and icy cold. The yolks of
four raw eggs, one tablespoonful of salt, one of mustard,
the juice of a lemon, and a speck of cayenne pepper
should be used.

Two drops of onion juice, or a bit of onion sliced,
will add great piquancy to salad dressing, if every one
likes onion.

I have never tried the following recipe, — I have tried
all the others, — but I have heard that it was very good :

Four tablespoonfuls of butter, one of flour, one table-
spoonful of salt, one of sugar, one heaping teaspoonful of
mustard, a speck of cayenne, one cupful of milk, half a cup-

THE SALAD. 13I

ful of vinegar, three eggs. Let the butter get hot in a sauce-
pan. Add the flour and stir until smooth, being careful not
to brown. Add the milk and boil up. Place the saucepan
in another of hot water. Beat the eggs, salt, pepper, sugar,
and mustard together, and add the vinegar. Stir this into
the boiling mixture and stir until it thickens like soft custard,
which will be about five minutes. Set away to cool, and
when cold, bottle and place in the ice-chest. This will keep
two weeks.

If one wishes to use prepared mayonnaise it is better
to buy that which is sold at the grocers. It has not the
charm of a fresh dressing, however, but is rather like
those elaborated impromptus which some studied talkers
get off.

A very pretty salad can be made of nasturtium-
blossoms, buttercups, a head of lettuce, and a pint of
water-cresses. It is to be covered with the French
dressing and eaten immediately.

Asparagus is so good in itself that it seems a shame to
dress it as a salad ; yet it is very good eaten with oil,
vinegar, and salt. Cauliflower, cold, is delicious as a salad,
and can be made very ornamental with a garniture of
beet root, which is a good ingredient for a salad of salt
codfish, boiled.

Sardine salads are very appetizing for lunch. Arrange
a cold salmon or codfish on a bed of lettuce. Split six
sardines, remove the bones, and mix them into the
dressing. Garnish the whole dish with sardines, and
cover with the dressing.

All kinds of cooked fish can be served with salads.
Lettuce is the best green salad to serve with them ; but
all cooked and cold vegetables go well with fish. Add
capers to the mayonnaise.

A housekeeper who has conquered the salad question

132 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

can always add to the plainest dinner a desirable dish.
She can feed the hungry, and she can stimulate the most
jaded fancy of the over-fastidious gourmei by these
delicate and consummate luxuries.

Here is Sydney Smith's recipe for a salad : —

*' To make this condiment your poet begs

The pounded yellow of two hard-boiled eggs ;
Two boiled potatoes, passed through kitchen sieve,

Smoothness and softness to the salad give.
Let onion atoms wink within the bowl,

And half suspected, animate the whole;
Of mordant mustard, add a single spoon,

(Distrust the condiment that bites too soon),
But deem it not, thou man of herbs, a fault.

To add a double quantity of salt.
Four times the spoon with oil of Lucca crown,

And twice with vinegar, procured from town;
And lastly, o'er the favoured compound toss

A magic soupgon of anchovy sauce.
Oh, green and glorious ! Oh, herbaceous treat !

'T would tempt the dying anchorite to eat !
Back to the world would turn his fleeting soul,

To plunge his fingers in a salad bowl !
Serenely full, the epicure would say,

• Fate cannot harm me, — I have dined to-day.' "

LOBSTER SALAD.

"Take, take lobsters and lettuces,

Mind that they send you the fish that you order ;
Take, take a decent sized salad bowl.

One that 's sufficiently deep in the border ;
Cut into many a slice,

All of the fish that 's nice ;
Place in the bowl with due neatness and order ;

Then hard-boiled eggs you may
Add in a neat array,

All toward the bowl, just by way of a border.

THE SALAD. 1 33

" Take from the cellar of salt a proportion,

Take from the castors both pepper and oil.
With vinegar too, but a moderate portion, —

Too much of acid your salad will spoil ;
Mix them together,

You need not mind whether
You blend them exactly in apple-pie order,

But when you 've stirred away.
Mix up the whole you may.

All but the eggs which are used as a border.

" Take, take plenty of seasoning ;

A teaspoonful of parsley that 's chopped in small pieces
Though, though, the point will bear reasoning,

A small taste of onion the flavour increases
As the sauce curdle may,

Should it, the process stay.
Patiently do it again in good order ;

For if you chance to spoil
Vinegar, eggs, and oil,

Still to proceed would on lunacy border."

A Spanish salad, gaspacho, is a favourite food of the
Andalusian peasant. It is but bread soaked in oil and
water, with a large Spanish onion peeled, and a fresh
cucumber.

Slice three tomatoes, take out the grain and cut up the
fruit. Arrange carefully all these materials in a shallow
earthen pan, tier upon tier, salting and peppering each to
taste, pouring in oil plentifully, and vinegar. Last of all, let
the salad lie in some cool spot for an hour or two, then
sprinkle over it two handfuls of bread-crumbs.

In Spanish peasant houses, the big wooden bowl hang-
ing below the eaves to keep it cool is always ready for
attack. The oil in Spain is not to our taste; but the
salad made as above, with good oil, is delicious. It
should have a sprinkling of red pepper.

DESSERTS.

There is not in the wide world so tempting a sweet
As that trifle where custard and macaroons meet.
Oh ! the latest sweet tooth from my head must depart
Ere the taste of that trifle shall not win my heart.

Yet it is not the sugar that 's thrown in between,
Nor the peel of the lemon so candied and green,
'Tis not the rich cream that 's whipped up by a mill,
Oh, no ; it is something more exquisite still !

THE great meaning of dessert is to offer '' something
more exquisite still." And it is the province of
the housekeeper, be she young or old, to study how this
can be done.

Nothing in European dinners can compare with the
American custards, puddings, and pies. We are accused
as a nation of having eaten too many sweets, and of hav-
ing ruined our teeth thereby ; but who that has languished
in England over the insipid desserts at hotels, and the
tooth-sharpeners called " sweets," meaning tarts as sour
as an east wind, has not sighed for an American pie?
In Paris the cakes are pretty to look at, but oh, how
they break their promise when you eat them ! Nothing
but sweetened white of egg. One thing they surpass us
in, — ■ omelette souffle ; and a gateau St. Honore is good, but
with that word of praise we dismiss the great French
nation.

DESSERTS. 135

Just look at our grand list of fruit desserts : apple char-
lotte, apricots with rice, banana charlotte, banana frit-
ters, blackberry short-cake, strawberry short-cake, velvet
cream with strawberries, fresh pine-apples in jelly,
frozen bananas, frozen peaches in cream, orange cocoa-
nut salad, orange salad, peach fritters, peach meringue,
peach short-cake, plum salad, salad of mixed fruits,
sliced pears with whipped cream, stewed pears, plain,
and pumpkin pie ! But oh ! there is " something more
exquisite still," and that is an apple pie.

" All new dishes fade, the newest oft the fleetest ;
Of all the pies ever made, the apple 's still the sweetest.
Cut and come again, the syrup upward springing,
While life and taste remain, to thee my heart is clinging.
Who a pie would make, first his apple slices,
Then he ought to take some cloves and the best of spices,
Grate some lemon rind, butter add discreetly,
Then some sugar mix, but mind, — the pie not made too sweetly.
If a cook of taste be competent to make it,
In the finest paste will enclose and bake it."

During years of foreign travel I have never met a
dish so perfect as the American apple pie can be,
with cream.

Then look at our puddings ; they are richer, sweeter,
more varied than any in the world, the English plum-
pudding excepted. That is a ponderous dainty, which
few can eat. It looks well when dressed with holly and
lighted up, but it is not to be eaten every day. Baked
bread pudding, carrot pudding, exceedingly delicate,
chocolate pudding, cold cabinet-pudding, boiled rice-
pudding with custard sauce, poor man's rice-pudding,
green-apple pudding, Indian pudding, minute pudding,
tapioca pudding, and all the custards boiled and baked
with infinite variety of flavour, — these are the every-day

136 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

luxuries, and they are very great ones, of the American
table.

One charming thing about dessert and American dishes
is that ladies can make them. They do not flush the
face or derange the white apron. They are pleasant
things to dally with, — milk and eggs, and spice and sugar.
A model kitchen is every lady's delight. In these days
of tiles, and marble pastry-boards, and modern improve-
ments, what pretty things kitchens are.

The model dairy, too, is a delight, with its upright
milk-pans, in which the cream is marked off by a neat
little thermometer, and its fire-brick floor. How cool
and neat it is ! Sometimes a stream of fresh water flows
under the floor, as the river runs under the Chateau of
Chenonceaux, where Diane de Poitiers dressed her golden
hair.

In the model kitchen is the exquisite range, with its
polished batterie de cuisine. Every brilliant saucepan
seems to say, " Come and cook in me ; " every porcelain-
lined pan urges upon one the necessity of stewing nectar-
ines in white sugar ; every bright can suggests the word
" conserve," which always makes the mouth water; every
clatter of the skewers says, " Dainty dishes, come and
make me." All this is quite fascinating to an amateur.

No pretty woman, if she did but know it, is ever so
pretty as when she is playing cook, and doing it well.
The clean white apron, the short, clean, cambric gown,
the little cap, the white, bare arms, — the glorified creams
and jelhes, pies and Charlotte Russe, cakes and puddings,
which fall from such fingers are ambrosial food.

There is a great passion, in the properly regulated
woman's heart, for the cleanly part of the household
work. The love of a dairy is, with many a duchess, part

DESSERTS. 137

of the business of her rank. In our country, where
ladies are compelled to put a hand, once perhaps too
often, owing to the insufficiency of servants, to the cook-
ing, it is less a pastime, but a knowledge of it is indis-
pensable. To cook a heavy dinner in hot weather, to
wash the dishes afterward, this is sober prose, and by a
very dull author; but to make the dessert, this is poetry.
In the early morning the hostess should go into her neat
dairy to skim the cream ; it will be much thicker if she
does. She will prepare all things for the desserts of the
day. She will make her well- flavoured custard and set
it in the ice-chest. She will place her compote of pears
securely on a high shelf, away from that ubiquitous cat
who has, in most families, so remarkable and so irre-
pressible an appetite.

Then she should make a visit to the kitchen before
dinner, to see to it that the roast birds are garnished
with water- cress, that the vegetables are properly pre-
pared, that the dishes are without a smear on their lower
surfice. All this attention makes good servants and very
good "dinners.

In the matter of flavouring, the coloured race has us
at a great disadvantage. Any old coloured cook can
distance her white *' Missus " there. This highly gifted
race seem to have a sixth sense on the subject of flavours.
The rich tropical nature breaks out in reminiscences of
orange-blossoms, pineapple, guava, cocoanut, and man-
darin orange. Never can the descendants of the poor,
half- starved, frozen exiles of Plymouth Rock hope to
achieve such custards and puddings as these Ethiops
pour out. It is as if some luxurious and beneficent gift
had left us when we were made poets, orators, philoso-
phers, preachers, and authors, when we were given what

138 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

we proudly term a higher intelHgence. Who would not
exchange all the cold, mathematical, intellectual suprem-
acy of which we boast for that luscious gift of making
pies and puddings a ravir ?

The making of pastry is so delicate and so varied a
task that we can only say, approach it with cold hands,
cold ice-water, roll it on a marble slab, then bake it in a
very hot oven.

Learn to stew well. Stew your fruit in a porcelain
stewpan before putting it in your tarts. It is one of the
most wholesome forms of cookery; a French novelist
calls the stewpan the " favourite arm, the talisman of the
cook." A celebrated physician said that the action of
the stewpan was like that of the stomach, and it is a
great gain if we can help that along. Stewing goose-
berries, cherries, and even apples with sugar and lemon-
peel before putting them in the tart, ensures a good
pie.

Whipped white of Qgg is an elegant addition to most
dessert dishes, and every lady should provide herself
with wire whisks.

Whipped to a strong froth with sugar, and lemon or
vanilla flavouring, this garnish makes an ordinary into a
superior pudding. New-laid eggs are exceedingly difficult
to beat up well. Take those which have been laid sev-
eral days. Have a deep bowl with a circular bottom,
and in beating the eggs keep the whisk as much as pos-
sible in an upright position, moving it- very rapidly ; a
little boiling water, a tablespoonful to two eggs, and a
teaspoii^ful of sifted sugar put to them before beating is
commenced, facilitates the operation.

For omelette sotcffle the white of eggs, beaten, should be
firm enough to cut.

DESSERTS. 139

An orange-custard pudding is so very good that we
must give a time-honoured recipe : —

Boil a pint of new milk, pour it upon three eggs lightly
beaten, mix in the grated peel of an orange, and two ounces
of loaf sugar ; beat all together for ten minutes, then pour
the custard into a pie dish, set it into another containing a
little water, and put it in a moderate oven. When the cus-
tard is set, which generally takes about half an hour, take it
out and let it get cold. Then sprinkle over rather thickly
some very fine sugar, and brown with a salamander. This
should be eaten cold.

Of rice and tapioca puddings the variety is endless,
and they are most healthful. A wife who will give her
dyspeptic husband a good pudding every day may per-
haps save his life, his fortunes, and if he is an author, his
literary reputation.

An antiquary of the last century wrote, "Cookery
was ever reckoned a branch of the art medical ; the verb
curare signifies equally to dress vegetables and to cure a
distemper, and everybody has heard of Dr. Diet, and
kitchen physic."

Indeed that most sacred part of a woman's duty,
learning to cook for the sick, can be studied through
desserts. A lady, very ill in Paris through a long winter,
declared that she would have been cured had she once
tasted cream-toast, or tapioca pudding ; both were lux-
uries which she never encountered.

Then come all the jeUies ; and it is better to make
your own gelatine from the real calves'-feet than to use
patent gelatine. The latter, however, is very good, and
saves time. It also makes excellent foundation for all
the so-called creams.

Some ardent housekeepers put up all their jams,

140 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

preserves, and currant jelly ; some even make the cordials
curagoa, noyau, peach brandy, ginger cordial, and cherry
brandy, but this is unnecessary. They can be bought
cheaper and better than they can be made.

The history of liqueurs is a curious one. Does any
one ever think, as he tastes Chartreuse, of the gloomy
monks who dig their own graves, and never speak save
to say, " Mes freres, il faut mourir," who alone can make
this sparkling and delicate liqueur which figures at every
grand feast?

I have made an expedition to their splendid mountain-
bound convent. It is one of the most glorious drives in
Europe, and rises into Alpine grandeur and solemnity.
There, amid winter's cold and summer's heat, the Char-
treuse lives in severe penance, making his hospitable
liqueur which enchants the world, out of the chamomile
and other herbs which grow around his convent.

The best French liqueurs were made formerly at La
Cote by the Visetandine nuns. Kirschwasser is made
from the cherries which grow in the Alpine Tyrol, in one
small province which produces nothing else.

Liqueurs were invented for Louis XIV. in his old age.
A cordial was made by mixing brandy with sugar and
scents.

In making a mince pie, do not forget the excellent
brandy, and the dash of orange cura^oa, which should
be put in by the lady herself. Else why is it that other-
wise the mince pie seems to lack the inspiriting an !
hidden fire. We read that there is '" many a slip 'tv/"x'.
the cup and the lip." Perhaps the cook could tell, but
one may be very sure she will not.

The modern, elegant devices by which strawberries,
violets, and roseleaves, orange blossoms, and indeed all

DESSERTS. 141

berries can be candied fresh in sugar, afford a pretty
pastime for amateur cooks. But if near a confectioner
in the city these can be bought cheaper than they can
be made. It may amuse an invaUd to make them, and
the art is easily learned.

The c\\Q&SQ fondu is a great favourite at foreign des-
serts. It is of Swiss origin. It is a healthful, sav^oury,
and appetizing dish, quickly dressed and good to put at
the end of a dinner for unexpected guests.

Take as many eggs as there are guests, and then about a
third as much by weight of the best Gruy^res cheese, and
the half of that of butter. Break and beat up well the eggs
in a saucepan, then add the butter and the cheese, grated or
cut in small pieces ; place the saucepan on the fire, and stir
with a wooden spoon till it is of a thick and soft consistence ;
put in salt according to the age of the cheese, — fresh cheese
requires the most, — and a strong dose of pepper, then bake
it like macaroni and send to table hot.

One pie we have which is national ; it is that made
of the pumpkin, and it is notoriously good. Also we
may claim the squash pie and the sweet-potato pie, both
of which merit the highest encomiums.

Our fruits are so plentiful and so good that few house-
keepers can fail of having a good dessert of fruits alone.
But do not force the seasons. Take them as they come.
When fruits are cheapest then they are best. Our
peaches have more flavour than those of Europe, and our
grapes are unrivalled. Of plums and pears, France has
better than we can boast, but our strawberries are as
good and as plentiful as in England.

In fact, all the wild berries which are now getting to
be cultivated berries, Hke blackberries, blueberries,
huckleberries, and raspberries, are better than similar

142 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

fruits abroad. The wild strawberry of the Alps is, how-
ever, delicious in flavour and sweetness.

A very grand dessert is furnished with ices of every
flavour, jellies holding fruit and flavoured with maraschino,
all sorts of bonbons, nuts in sugar, candied grapes and
oranges, fresh fruits in season, and ending with liqueurs
and black coflee.

A simple pudding, or pie followed by grapes and
peaches, with the cup of black coflee afterward, is the
national dessert of our United States. In winter it may
be enriched by a Newtown pippin or a King of Tompkins
County apple, some boiled chestnuts and a few other
nuts, some Florida oranges, or those delicious little
mandarins, perhaps raised by the immortal Rip Van
Winkle, our own Joe Jefl"erson, on his Louisiana estate.
He seems to have infused them with the flavour of his
own rare and cheerful genius. He has raised a laugh
before this, as weU as the best mandarin oranges. Some
dyspeptics declare that to chew seven roasted almonds
after dinner does them good. And the roasted almonds
fitly close the chapter on desserts.

GERMAN EATING AND DRINKING.

" I wonder if Charlemagne ever drank
A tankard of Assmanschausen. Nay !
If he had, his empire never would rank
As it does with the royalist realms to-day;
For the goddess that laughs within the cup
Had wiled and won him from blood and war.
And shown, as he drained her long draughts up,
There was something better worth living for
Than kingcraft keeping his gruff brow sad.
I wish from my very soul she had."

THE deep, dark, swiftly flowing Rhine, its legends,
its forests of silver firs and pines, its mountains
crowned with castles, and its hillsides blushing with the
bending vine, the convent's ancient walls, the glistening
spire, the maidens with their plaited hair, and " hands
that offer early flowers," all the bright, beautiful, romantic
landscape, the dancing waves which wash its historic
shores, its donjon keeps and haunted Tenter Rock, its

" Beetling walls with ivy grown,
Frowning heights of mossy stone," —

all this beauty is placed in the land of the sauer-kraut,
the herring salad, the sweet stewed fruit with pork, pig
and prune sauce, carp stewed in beer, raw goose-flesh
or Gottingen sausages, potato sweetened, and cabbage
soured, — in a land, in short, whose kitchen is an abomi-
nation to ah other nations.

Not that one does not get an excellent dinner at a
German hotel in a great city. But all the cooks are

144 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

French. The powerful young emperor has, however,
given his orders that all menus shall hereafter be written
in German; the language of Ude, Soyer, Valet, and
FrancateUi, Brillat, Savarin, and Bechamel, is to be
replaced by German.

But if the viands are not good, the wines are highly
praised by the gourmet ; and as these wines are often ex-
ported, it is said that one gets a better German wine in
New York than at a second-class hotel at Bonn or
Cologne or Diisseldorf, — on the same principle that fish
at Newport is less fresh than at New York, for it is all
bought, sent to New York, and then sent back to New-
port. In other words, the exporters are careful to keep
up the reputation of their exported wines.

Assmanschausen is a red Rhine wine of high degree ;
some gourmets call it the Burgundy of the Rhine. This
poetic beverage is found within the gorge of the Rhine.

The bend which the noble river assumes at the Rhein-
gau is said to have the effect of concentrating the sun's
rays, reflected from the surface of the water as from a
mirror, upon the vine-clad slopes ; and it is to this cir-
cumstance, combined with the favourable nature of the
soil, and to the vineyards being completely sheltered
from the north winds by the Taunus range, that the
marked superiority of the wines of the Rheingau is
ordinarily attributed.

*' Bacharach has produced another fine wine.
* He never has been to Heaven and back
Who has not drunken of Bacharach.' "

And Longfellow says : —

" At Frankfort on the Maine,
And at Wiirtzburg on the Stein,
At Bacharach on the Rhine,
Grow the three best kinds of wine/*

German eating and drinkinc. 145

We know but little of the superior red wines of Walporz-
heimer, .\hrweiler, and Bodendorfer, which come from the
valley of the Ahr. The Ahr falls into the Rhine near
Sinzig, midway between Coblenz and Bonn. The wines
from its beautiful vineyards are a fine deep red. The
taste is astringent, somewhat like port. There is an
agreeable red wine called Kreutzburger which comes
from the neighbourhood of Ehrenbreitstein. Linz on the
Rhine sends us a good red wine known as Dattenberger.
These are all pure wines which know no doctoring.

The Liebfrauenmilch is a Riessling wine with a fine
bouquet. It owes its celebrity rather to its name than
its merits. It comes from the vineyards adjoining the
Liebfrauen Kirche near Worms, and was named by some
pious churchman.

No wines have as many poetical tributes as the Rhine
wines. One of the English poets sings : —

" O for a kingdom rocky-throned,
Above the brimming Rhine,
With vassals who should pay their toll
In many sorts of wine.
Above me naught but the blue air.
And all below, the vine,
I 'd plant my throne, where legends say
In nights of harvest-time
King Charlemagne, in golden robe, —
So runs the rustic rhyme, —
Doth come to bless the mellowing crops
While bells of Heaven chime."

The Steinbergers, the Hochheimers, Marcobrunners,
and Riidesheimers, sound like so many noble families.
Indeed an American senator, hearing these fine names,
remarked : " I have no doubt, sir, they are all very nice
girls."

10

146 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

There is a famous Hochheimer, no less than a hundred
and sixty-seven years old, the vintage of that year when
the Duke of Marlborough gained the Battle of Ramillies.
Let us hope that he and Prince Eugene moistened their
clay and labours with some of this famous wine. These
wines do not last, however. The best age is ten years,
and those which have been stored in the antique vaulted
cellar of the Bernardine Abbey of Eberbach, world-
renowned as the Grand-ducal Cabinet wine of the ruler
of Nassau, are now completely run out. Even Rudes-
heimer of 1872 is no longer good.

It must be remembered, however, that these wines are
never fortified. To put extraneous alcohol into their be-
loved Rhine wine would rouse Rudolph of Hapsburg and
Conrad of Hotstettin from the sleep of centuries.

The Steinberger Cabinet of 1862 is the most superb
of Rhine wines for bouquet, refined flavour, combined
richness and delicacy. We do not except Schloss Johan-
nisberger, because that is not in the market. A Marco-
brunner and a Rlidesheimer are not to be despised.

Prince Metternich sent to Jules Janin for his autograph,
and the witty poet editor sent a receipt for twelve bottles
of Imperial Schloss Johannisberger. The Prince took
the hint and had a dozen of the very best cabinet wine
forwarded, every bottle being sealed and every cork duly
branded with the Prince's crest ! The Johannisberger
wine is excessively sweet, singularly soft, and gives forth
a delicious perfume, a rich, limpid, amber-coloured wine,
with a faint bitter flavour ; it is as beautiful to look at as
it is luscious to the taste, and it possesses a bouquet
which the Empress Eugenie compared to that of helio-
trope, violets, and geranium leaves combined.

The refined pungent flavour of a good Hock, its slight

GERMAN EATING AND DRINKING. 1 47

racy sharpness, with an after ahiiond flavour, make it an
admirable appetizer. The staircase vineyards, in which
the grapes grow on the Rhine, seem to catch all the re-
vivifying influences of sunshine. Their splendid golden
colour is caught from those first beams of the sun as he
greets his bride, the Earth, after he has been separated
from her for twelve dark hours.

Some very good wine comes from the Rochusberg, im-
mediately opposite Rudesheim. Goethe heard a sermon
here once in which the preacher glorified God in propor-
tion to the number of bottles of good wine it was daily
vouchsafed to him to stow away under his waistband.

It was here that the rascal lived who drank wine out
of a boot, immortalized by Longfellow. We can hardly,
however, abuse the man, for he had an incurable thirst,
and no crystal goblet would have held enough for him, —
not indeed the biggest German beer mug.

Longfellow, in the " Golden Legend," has a chapter
devoted to wine. In this poem the old cellarer muses, as
he goes to draw the fine wine for the fathers, who sit
above the salt, and he utters this truth of those brothers
who sit below the salt : —

*' Who cannot tell bad wine from good,
And are much better off than if they could."

The superior wines of the Rhine, Walporzheimer, Ahrwei-
ler and Bodendorfer, all deserve notice.

The kind of wine to be served with a dinner must de-
pend on the means of the host. It is to be feared that,
ignorantly or otherwise, many wines with high-sounding
names which are not good are off"ered to guests.

Mr. Evarts made a witty remark on this subject.
Some one said to him, '^ I hear that as a great diner-out

148 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

you find yourself the worse for drinking so many different
sorts of wine." " Oh no," said Mr. Evarts, '' I do not
object to the different wines, it is the indifferent wines
which hurt me ! "

Savarin says, sententiously, " Nothing can exceed the
treachery of asking people to dinner under the guise of
friendship, and then giving them to eat or drink of that
which may be injurious to health." We should think so.
That was the pleasant hospitality of the Borgias. In the
neighbourhood of Neuwied, the dealers are accused of
much doctoring of wine. During the vintage, at night,
when the moon has gone down, boats glide over the
Rhine freighted with a soapy substance manufactured
from potatoes, and called by its owners sugar. This
stuff is thrown into the vats containing the must, water
is introduced from pumps and wells, chemical ferments
and artificial heat are applied. This noble fluid is sent
everywhere by land and water, and labelled as first-class
wine. It is not bad to the taste, but does not bear
transportation. This adulteration chiefly affects the
wines sold at German hotels.

Heinrich Heine has left us this picture of a German
dinner : " I dined at the Crown at Clausthal. My repast
consisted of spring greens, parsley soup, violet blue cab-
bage, a pile of roast veal, which resembled Chimborazo in
miniature, and a sort of smoked herring called buckings,
from their inventor William Buckings, who died in 1447,
and who on account of that invention was so greatly
honoured by Charles V. that the great monarch in 1556
made a journey from Middelburg to Bierhed, in Zealand,
for the express purpose of visiting the grave of the great
fish-dryer. How exquisitely such dishes taste when we
are familiar with their historical associations."

GERMAN EATING AND DRINKING. 1 49

It is impossible in translation to give Heine's intense
ridicule and scorn. He was a Frenchman out of place
in Germany. He revolted at things German, but en-
deared himself to his people by his wit, universality of
talent, and sincerity. The world has thanked him for
his " Reisebilder." Heine gives us new ideas of the hor-
rors of German cookery when he talks of Gottingen sau-
sages, Hamburg smoked beef, Pomeranian goose-breasts,
ox-tongues, calf s brains in pastry, gudgeon cakes, and
" a wretched pig's-head in a wretcheder sauce, which
has neither a Grecian nor a Persian flavour, but which
tasted like tea and soft soap."

He cannot leave Gottingen without this description :
"The town of Gottingen, celebrated for its sausages and
its university, belongs to the King of Hanover, and con-
tains nine hundred and ninety-nine dwellings, divers
chambers, an observatory, a prison, a library, and a
council chamber where the beer is excellent."

German sausages are very good. Even the great
Goethe, in dying, remembered to send a sausage to his
aesthetic love of a Hfetime, the Frau Von Stein.

Thackeray, who was keenly alive to the horrors of
German cookery, says that whatever is not sour is greasy,
and whatever is not greasy is sour. The curious bill of
fare of a middle-class German table is something like
this : They begin with a pudding. They serve sweet
preserved fruit with the meat, generally stewed cherries.
They go on with dreadful dishes of cabbage and prepa-
rations of milk, curdled, soured, and cheesed.

Dr. Lieber, the learned philologist, was eloquent on
the subject of the coarseness of the German appetite.
He had early corrected his by a visit to Italy, and he
remarked^ with his usual profundity, that it was " the

150 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

more incomprehensible as nature had given Germany the
finest wines with which to wash down the worst cookery."

A favourite dish is potato pancakes. The raw pota-
toes are scraped fine, mixed with milk, and then treated
like flour cakes, served with apple or plum sauce.

Sauer-kraut is ridiculed, but it is only cabbage cut fine
and pickled. There are two delicious dishes in which it
plays an important part : one is roast pheasant cut fine
and cooked with sauer-kraut and champagne ; the other
is sauer-kraut cooked in the crotUe of a Strasbourg pate
de foie gras.

Favourite Austro- Hungarian dishes are bachhendl,
baked spring-chicken, — the chicken rolled into a paste
of egg flour and then baked. It is rather dry to eat, but
just the thing with a bottle of Hungarian wine. Also a
beefsteak, with plenty of paprika, or Hungarian red
pepper, Brinsa cheese, pot cheese, made in the Carpa-
thian mountains and baked in a hot oven.

Brook trout is never fried, but boiled in water, and
then served surrounded by parsley in melted butter.

In eastern Russia grows a pea, the gray pea, which is
boiled and eaten like peanuts by peeling off the hard
skin, or boiled with some sort of sour-sweet sauce, which
softens the skin. This pea is such a favourite with the
Lithuanians that it is made the subject of poetry.

Venison, and hare soup, are deliciously gamey bouil-
lons, which are made of the soup bone of the roast.
The Polish soup barscz is made of bouillon with the juice
of red beets, little saucissons, and specially made pastry,
with highly spiced forced-meat balls swimming in it.

Lettuce salad is prepared in Germany with sour cream.

A favourite drink is warm beer, — beer heated with the
yolk of an egg in it.

GERMAN EATING AND DRINKING. I5t

" Fill me once more the foaming pewter up !
Another board of oysters, ladye mine !
To-night Lucullus with himself shall sup.
Those mute inglorious Miltons are divine;
And as I here in slippered ease recline,
Quaffing of Perkins's Entire my fill,
I sigh not for the lymph of Aganippe's rill.'*

Beer is the amber inspiration of the Germans, and plays
its daily, hourly part in their science of entertaining.

And the pea which can be skinned, which is such a
favourite with the Lithuanians, has also been immor-
talized by Thackeray : —

" I give thee all ! I can no more,
Though poor the offering be ;
Stewed duck and peas are all the store
That I can offer thee ! —
A duck whose tender breast reveals
Its early youth full well,
And better still, a pea that peels
From fresh transparent shell."

But it must not be supposed that rich German citizens
of the United States do not know how to give a good
dinner. Cosmopolitan in everything else, these, the
best colonists whom Europe has sent to us, make good
soldiers, good statesmen, and good entertainers. They
do not insist that we shall eat pig and prune sauce. No,
they give us the most affluent bill of fare which the mar-
ket affords. They give us a fine dining-room in which
to eat it, and they offer as no other men can " a tank-
ard of Assmanschausen."

They give us, as a nation, a valuable present in mineral
water. The ApolHnaris bubbling up near the Rhine
seems sent by Heaven to avert that gout and rheuma-
tism which are the terrible after-dinner penalties of those
who like too well the noble Rhine wines.

THE INFLUENCE OF GOOD CHEER ON
AUTHORS AND GENIUSES.

" The ancient poets and their learned rhymes
We still admire in these our later times,
And celebrate their fames. Thus, though they die
Their names can never taste mortality.
These had their helps. They wrote of gods and kings,
Of temples, battles, and such gallant things.
And now we ask what noble meat and drink
Can help to make man work, to make him think.**

" Pray, on what meat hath this our Caesar fed ? "

WE should have a higher estimate of the value of a
knowledge of cookery and of all the arts of en-
tertaining, did we sufficiently realize that the style of
Carlyle was owing to dyspepsia ! At the age of fifteen
he entered Edinburgh University in order to fit himself
for the pulpit. He studied for many months to that end,
but his vocation refused to be clear. The ministry grew
alien to his mind. Finally he shut himself up, and as
he himself says, wrestled with the Lord and all the imps
of darkness. Carlyle believed in a personal Devil, not
tasting food or sleeping for three days and nights, and
then terminated the struggle by resolving to pursue liter-
ature. What mental revolution he underwent, he says
he never could understand ; all that he knew was that he
came out with that " dommed dyspepsia," — his Scotch
way of pronouncing a stronger word.

Influence of good cheer. 153

Some writer says that this anecdote solves the problem
of Carlyle. The force, earnestness, and eloquence of
his writings were born of a fine, free intellect. Then
came despondency, rage, and bitterness, springing from
dyspepsia, which had been his haunting demon from the
first, releasing him at intervals only to assail and torture
him the " more for each surcease."

Most of his works come under the head of the Litera-
ture of Dyspepsia, and can be as plainly traced to it as
to the growth of his understanding or the sincerity of
his convictions. Who does not recognize, in the oddities
of the trials and spiritual agonies of Herr Teufelsdrockh,
the author himself under a thin disguise, and the pro-
motings and promptings, and phenomena of censuring
indigestion? All through the " Sartor Resartus " it is evi-
dent that the gastric juices of the illustrious iconoclast
are insufficient ; that while he is railing at humanity he
is suffering from gastritis, while he is prophesying that
the race will come to naught but selfishness and stupidity
he is undergoing gastrodynia, or, as it is commonly called,
stomachic cramp.

I do not know who wrote that masterly criticism, but
evidently some man who had had a good dinner.

But Carlyle gets better and writes his noble essay
on Robert Burns, the life of John Sterling, Oliver
Cromwell's letters and speeches. Then he is at his best ;
sees man as a brother, handicapped with circumstances,
riveted to temperament perhaps, but in spite of all short-
comings and neglected opportunities, still a brother,
demanding respect, deserving of help. How different
Carlyle would have been, as a man and as a writer, with
nutritive organs capable of continually and regularly
performing their functions. Dyspepsia was his worst

tj4 THE ART OF fiNTERTAINiNG.

enemy, as it has been that of many of his readers.
Every mouthful he ate must have been a gastric Nemesis
for sins of opinion, and of heresies against humanity. His
very style is the result of indigestion, — an excess of ill-
chosen, ill-prepared German fare in a British stomach,
affording a strange sustenance, which, like some diseases,
keep a man alive, but which pain while they sustain.

What a different genius was Prescott, who had a good
dinner every day of his life, who was brought up from
boyhood in a luxurious old Boston household where was
the perfection of cookery !

Sydney Smith sent word to Prescott after he wrote
"Ferdinand and Isabella," —

" Tell Prescott to come here and we will drown him
in turtle soup."

"Say that I can swim in those seas," was Prescott's
witty rejoinder.

Mr. Prescott was fifty-three years of age when he
visited England ; he was extremely handsome, courteous,
and very much a man of the world.

" We grow like what we eat. Bad food depresses,
Good food exalts us like an inspiration."

Mr. Prescott had been inspired by good food, as any
one can see who reads that noble work " Ferdinand and
Isabella." In England this accomplished man was
received by Lady Lyell, to whom he was much attached.
The account of English hospitality which he gives throws
a rosy light on the history of the art of entertaining :

" I returned last night from the Homers, Lady Lyell's
parents and sisters, a very accomplished and happy
family circle. They have a small house, with a pretty
lawn stretching between it and the Thames, that forms a

INFLUENCE OF GOOD CHEER. 155

silver edging to the close-shaven green. The family
gather under the old trees on the little shady carpet,
which is sweet with the perfume of flowery shrubs. And
you see sails gliding by and stately swans, of which there
are hundreds on the river. The next Sunday, after
dinner, which we took at four o'clock, we strolled
through Hampton Court and its royal park. The next
day we took our picnic at Box Hill. On Friday to
dinner at Sir Robert Peel's and to an evening party at

Lady S 's. I went at eleven and found myself in a

brilliant saloon filled with people amongst whom" I did
not recognize a familiar face. You may go to ten parties
in London, be introduced to a score of persons in each,
and on going to the eleventh not see a face that you
have ever seen before, so large is the society of the great
metropolis. I was soon put at my ease, however, by the
cordial reception of Lord and Lady C , who intro-
duced me to a great number of persons."

This alone would prove how great was Prescott's
popularity, for in London, people, as a rule, are not
introduced.

" In the crowd 1 saw an old gentleman, nicely made
up, stooping a good deal, covered with orders, and
making his way easily along, as all, young and old, seemed
to treat him with deference. It was the Duke of Well-
ington, the old Iron Duke. He likes the attention he
receives in this social way. He wore round his neck the
order of the Golden Fleece, on his coat the order of the
Garter. He is, in truth, the lion of England, not to say
of all Europe."

This beautiful little genre picture of the Iron Duke
was written in the year 1850. Forty years later General
Grant was received at Apsley House by the son of the

156 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

great Duke of Wellington, the second Duke, who opened
the famous Waterloo room and toasted the modest
American as the greatest soldier of modern times.
Mr. Prescott goes on to say, —

"We had a superb dinner at Sir Robert Peel's, four
and twenty guests. It was served in the long picture-
gallery. The windows of the gallery look out upon the
Thames, its beautiful stone bridges with lofty arches,
Westminster Abbey with its towers, and the living pano-
rama on the water. The opposite windows look on the
green gardens behind the Palace of Whitehall, which
were laid out by Cardinal Wolsey, and near the
spot where Charles I. lived, and lost his life on the
scaffold. The gallery is full of masterpieces, especially
Dutch and Flemish, amongst them the famous Chapeau
de Faille, which cost Sir Robert over five thousand
pounds. In his dining-room were also superb pictures,
the famous one by Wilkie, of John Knox preaching,
which did not come up to the idea I had formed of it
from the engraving. There was a portrait of Dr. Johnson
by Reynolds, the portrait owned by Mrs. Thrale and
engraved for the Dictionary ; what a bijou !

"■ We sat at dinner looking out on the moving Thames.
We dined at eight, but the twilight lingers here until half-
past nine at this summer season. Sir Robert was exceed-
ingly courteous to his guests, told some good stories,
showed us his autographs, amongst which was the cele-
brated one written by Nelson, in which he says, * If I
die " Frigate " will be found written on my heart.' "

Mr. Prescott's letter to his daughter points out the
strange difference between the life of a girl in England
and a girl here.

" J think on reflection, dear Lizzy, that you did well

INFLUENCE OF GOOD CHEER. 1 5/

not to come with me. Girls of your age [she was then
nineteen] make no great figure in society. One never,
or very rarely, m^ets them at dinner parties, and they
are not so numerous at evening parties as with us, unless
it be at balls. Six out of seven women you meet are
over thirty, and many of them over forty or fifty, not to
say sixty ; the older they are, the more they are dressed
and diamonded. Young girls dress less, and wear very
little ornament indeed."

What a commentary this is on our American way of
doing things, — where young girls rule society, put their
mothers in the background, and wear too fine clothes.

Dr. Prescott was of course presented at Court, and
his account of it is delightful : —

" Well ! the presentation has come off, and I will give
you some account of it before going to dine with Lord
Fitzwilliam. This morning I breakfasted with Mr.
Monckton JMilnes, where I met Macaulay the third time
this week. We had also Lord Lyttleton, an excellent
scholar, Gladstone, and Lord W. Germains, a sensible
and agreeable person, and two or three others. We had
a lively talk, but I left early for the Court affair. I was
at Mr. Abbott Lawrence's at one in my costume, — a
chapeau with gold lace, blue coat, and white trowsers,
begilded with buttons and metal, a sword, and patent-
leather-boots. I was a figure indeed ! but I had enough
to keep me in countenance. I spent an hour yesterday
with Lady M. getting instructions for demeaning myself.
The greatest danger was that I should be tripped up by
my sword. On reaching St. James Place we passed up-
stairs through files of the Guard, beefeaters, and were
shown into a large saloon richly hung with crimson silk,
and with some fine portraits of the family of George

158 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

III. It was amusing, as we waited there an hour, to
see the arrival of the different persons, diplomatic,
military, and courtiers, all men and women blazing in
their stock of princely finery, and such a power of
diamonds, pearls, emeralds, and laces, the trains of the
ladies' dresses several yards in length. Some of the
ladies wore coronets of diamonds, which covered the

greater part of the head. I counted on Lady D 's

head two strings of diamonds rising gradually from the
size of a fourpence to the size of an English shilling, and

thick in proportion. The dress of the Duchess of D

was studded with diamonds • as large as nutmegs. The
young ladies dressed very plainly. I tell this for Lizzy's
especial benefit. The company were permitted to pass
one by one into the presence-chamber, a room of about
the same size as the other, with gorgeous canopy and
throne, at the farther end of which stood the little
Queen and her Consort, surrounded by her Court. She
was rather simply dressed, but he was in Field-Marshal's
uniform, and covered, I should think, with all the orders
of Europe. He is a good-looking person, but by no
means so good-looking as you are given to expect from
his pictures. The Queen is better looking than you
might expect. I was presented by our minister, by the
order of the Chamberlain, as the historian of Ferdinand
and Isabella and made my profound obeisance to her
Majesty who made a dignified courtesy. I made the
same low bow to his Princeship, and then bowed myself
out of the circle without my sword tripping up my heels.
As I was drawing off. Lord Carlisle, who was standing on
the outer edge, called me to him and kept me by his
side telling me the names of the different lords and
ladies who, after paying their obeisance to the Queen,
passed out before us."

INFLUENCE OF GOOD CHEER. 1 59

Mr. Monckton Milnes became Lord Houghton, and I
had great pleasure in knowing him well many years after
this. He told me, what our American historian was too
modest to tell, how well Mr. Prescott appeared in
London. Lionized to death, as the English alone can
lionize, Mr. Prescott never lost his modest self-posses-
sion. He was everywhere remarked for his beauty, his
fine manner, and his knowledge of the usages of good
society. But then, in 1887 the Enghsh went equally
wild, even more so, over Buffalo Bill, and probably
preferred him.

Mr. Prescott was entertained at Cuddeston Palace,
the residence of Bishop Wilberforce, the famous " Soapy
Sam," from the fact, as he said himself, that he ''was
always in hot water, and always came out cleaner than
he went in." This witty and accomplished prelate was
very much pleased with our American scholar, and gave
him a hearty welcome. It will sound curiously enough
now, that Mr. Prescott found his Episcopal views very
high, and says, " The service was performed with a cere-
mony quite Roman Catholic." The Bishop of Oxford
would, were he living now, be called low church, — so
much do terms vary in different ages. Truly the world
moves !

I was in my youth entertained at the house of Mr.
Prescott, at Nahant, and allowed to see his workroom and
the machinery with which he wrote. He gave me, and
I have it still, a paper which he wrote for me with the
wired plate which the blind use, for he could scarcely
see at all.

He was master of the art of entertaining. How
charming he was at dinner at his own house ; how pleas-
antly he made one forget his greatness, except that a

l6o THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

supreme simplicity seems always to accompany true
greatness. He had a regularity in his habits which would
in a less amiable man have interfered with his agreeability,
but with him it was most fascinating, as it seemed like
musical chords set to noble words.

It would be pleasant to record the triumphs of Mr
Webster, Mr. Motley, Mr. Lowell, Mr. Phelps, Mr. Evarts,
Mr. Depew, and many another great American in Eng-
land, but that, while a subject for national pride, scarcely
comes within the scope of this Httle book.

It would seem, however, that our orators, however
fed, have compassed the accomplishment of after-dinner
speaking, which is so much appreciated in England, and
it is to be hoped that no " dommed dyspepsia " from
badly cooked food will dim the oratory of the future.

It is quite true that a witty and full talker will be si-
lenced if he is placed before a bad dinner, one which is
palpably pretentious but not well cooked, and villanously
served. It is impossible for the really conscientious
diner-out, who respects his digestion, whose religion is
his dinner, to talk much or laugh much, if his gorman-
dize is wounded. Even if he wills to talk, in order not
to lose his reputation, his speech will be a " muddy
flood of saponaceous blather," instead of his usual bril-
liant flow of anecdote and repartee.

Not all great men have, however, felt the influence of
food as an inspirer. Dr. Johnson was great although
he was a horrible feeder ; and at the other extreme was
General Grant, so abstemious that he once told me that
he did not know the sensation of hunger ; that he could
go three days without food. At the splendid banquets
given to him he rarely ate much, but noticed the people
and the surroundings, great hero that he was.

INFLUENCE OF GOOD CHEER. l6l

Thackeray, Disraeli, and Dickens have given us the
most appreciative descriptions of the art of entertaining,
and were men deeply sensible of the charms of a good
dinner.

Charles Lamb has been the poet of the homely and
the comfortable side of good eating ; he records for us in
immortal prose and poetry what roast pig and tobacco
have done for him.

We claim boldly that a part of Webster's greatness,
Prescott's charm, the genius of Motley and of Lowell,
the oratory of Depew, the wit of Parke Godwin and
Horace Porter, even the magnificent march of Sherman
to the sea, the great genius of Bryant, the sparkling cup
of Anacreon, O. W. Holmes, the masterly speech of our
lawyers, and the unrivalled eloquence of our pulpit orators,
are owing to that earlier style of domestic x\merican
cookery which was, and is, and always shall be, deserving
of the highest praise, — when meats were cooked with all
their juices, before a wood fire, when bread was light and
feathery, when soups were soups, and broils were broils !
Oh, vanished excellence !

BONBONS.

Do, child, go to it' grandam, child ;

Give grandam kingdom ! and it' grandam will

Give it plumb, a cherry, and a fig.

King John.

THEY used to call a sugar-plum a plumb in Shaks-
peare's time. Was it on account of its weight?
Few ladies, on receiving a box of bonbons from Mail-
lards, go into the great question of their antiquity and
their manufacture. Few, even now, who at a fashion-
able hotel, receive on Sundays after dinner a pretty little
paper box filled with candied rose-leaves and violets,
remember that they are only following the fashion of
Lucretia Borgia in putting them in their pocket to eat
in their rooms, or at the theatre. There is nothing new
under the sun.

In France, in entertaining a lady, or a party of ladies, at
theatre or opera, the gentleman host always carries a box
of bonbons, within which is a little imitation-silver sugar-
tongs by which she can help herself to a chocolate or a
marron deginse, without soihiig her fingers. This pam-
pered dame does not consider that France makes an-
nually sixty million of francs' worth of bonbons; that
it exports only about one fourth of this, leavmg an enor-
mous amount for home consumption.

They send over to England alone, cheap sweets manu-
factured by steam, to the amount of three hundred thou-
sand English pounds a year.

BONBONS. 165

The stigar-plunl came from Italy, and dates no further
back than the sixteenth century as an article of com-
merce. But the skilful confectioners in private houses
knew how to manufacture not only those which were
healthful, but those which were very useful in getting rid
of dreaded rivals, unfaithful lovers, and troublesome
friends.

The manufacture of the antique sugar-plum, the ante-
diluvian baked almond, and the nauseous coloured abom-
inations whose paint-poisoned surface has long been dis-
carded in France, received, as I read in an old chroni-
cle, its death-blow from the Aboukir almonds, during the
period of Napoleon's invasion of Egypt, which killed
more people than the bullets. Next went down the
cracker bonbons, called Cossacks, on account of the
terror with which they inspired the gf-andes dames on
their first advent in 18 14.

These latter, however, have come back, in the harm-
less detonating powder-charged bonbons which every one
hears at a dinner-party, as the fringed papers are pulled.
Then come the primaveras, a variety of sugared bomb.
Then the marquises, orangines, marron glace, or sugared
chestnut, cerises pralinee, burnt cherHes, bowks, ananas,
dattes ail cafe, dates delightfully stuffed and covered with
sugar, diables noi7's, ganaches, and an ephemeral but de-
licious candy, bonbons fondants, with an inscription on
the box that "these must be eaten within twenty-four
hours.'* They are sometimes fruits with a creamy sugar,
raspberries, currants, strawberries, and are delicious, but
quite untransportable, although transporting merchandise.
Their invention made the fortune of the inventor.

Formerly the preparation of bonbons was a tedious
affair. Now it is almost the work of a day, but they

164 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

are perishable. If you leave a box open they will de-
vour themselves. Kept cool and air-tight, they will last
for years. About the first of December the great manu-
facturers in the Rue de la Paix, commence their opera-
tions for New Year's, when everybody, from President
Carnot down, sends his friend a box of bonbons. They
tell of one confectioner who abandoned his sugar-pots to
turn playwright, about the time that Alphonse Karr for-
sook literature to sell bouquets. The principle remains
the same. He wished to sweeten the existence of les
Pai'isic fines.

In visiting one of these immense establishments one
descends a stone staircase, and finds one's self in a stifling
atmosphere, heavily laden with the aroma of vanilla and
other essences. Around are scores of workmen, in white-
paper caps and aprons, their faces red with heat, as they
plunge particular fruits into large cauldrons, filled with
boiling syrups. More in the shade are other stalwart
men, their faces pale with the heated atmosphere, piling
up almonds on huge copper vessels ; and so constant is
the sound of metal clashing against metal that the vis-
itor might imagine himself in an armour smithy, instead
of a sugar factory ; rather with Vulcan working for the
gods, or some village blacksmith pounding out horse-
shoes, than with a party of French ouvriers making
sugar-plums for children to crunch. On all sides one
sees sugar, gallons of liqueurs, syrups, and essences, rum,
aniseed, noyau, maraschino, pineapple, apricot, straw-
berry, cherry, vanilla, chocolate, coffee, and tea, with sacks
of almonds, and baskets of chestnuts, pistachio nuts, and
filberts being emptied into machines which bruise their
husks, flay them, and blanch them, all ready to receive
their saccharine coating.

BONBONS. 165

Those bonbons which have Hqueur in them are much
appreciated by gourmets who find other bonbons disagree
with them ! A sugar-coated brandy cherry is rehshed by
the wisest man. Most bonbons are made by hand ; those
only which are flat at the bottom are cast in moulds. In
the hand- made bonbons, the sugar paste is rolled into
shapes by the aid of an instrument formed of a stout
piece of wire, one end of which is twisted, and the other
fixed into a wooden handle. With this the paste is taken
out of the cauldron, and worked into the desired form by
a rapid coup de main. For bonbons of a particular form,
such as those in imitation of various fruits, models are
carved in wood.

Liqueur bonbons are formed of a mixture of some
given liqueur and liquid sugar, which is poured into
moulds, and then placed in a slow oven for the day.
Long before they are removed a hard crust has formed
on the outside, while the inside remains in its original
liquid state. Bonbons are crystallized by being plunged
into a syrup heated to thirty degrees Reamur ; by the
time they are dry the crystallization is complete and acts
as a protection against the atmosphere. The bonbons
can then be kept a certain time, although their flavour
deteriorates.

I think sugar one of the most remarkable of all the
gifts of nature. It submits itself to all sorts of plastic
arts, and to see a confectioner pouring it through little
funnels, to see him make a flower, even to its stamens,
of this excellent juice of the cane or of the beet, — they
use beet sugar almost entirely in France, — is to compre-
hend anew how many of the greatest of all curiosities are
hidden in the kitchen.

One must go to Chamb^ry, in Savoy, to taste some

/

1 66 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING. /

of the most exquisite pdftsserie, to find the most deli-
cious candied fruits ; and at MontpelUer, in the south
of France, is another most celebrated manufactory of
bonbons.

I received once from Montpellier a box holding six
pounds of these marvellous sweets, which were arranged
in layers. Beginning with chocolates in every form, tbey
passed upward by strata, until they reached the candied
fruit, which was to be eaten at once. I think there were
fifty-five varieties of delicious sweets in that box. Such
lovely colours, such ineffable flavours, such beauties as
they were ! The only remarkable part of this anecdote
is that I survived to tell it. I can only account for it
by the fact that it was sent me by a famous physician,
who must have hidden his power of healing in the box.
Unlike Pandora's box which sent the troop of evils out
into the world, this famous cachet sent nothing but good-
will and pleasure, barring perhaps a possible danger.

If, however, we speak of the bonbons themselves,
what can we say of the bonbonnieres .' Everything that
is beautiful, everything that is curious, everything that is
quaint, everything that is ludicrous, everything that is
timely, is utilized. I received an immense green satin
grasshopper — the last jour de Van, in Paris — filled to
his uttermost antetince with bonbons. It could be for
once said that the " grasshopper had not become a
burden." Tht pa7iier IVatfeau, formed of satin, pearls,
straw, and flowers, may be made to conceal a handker-
chief worth a thousand francs under the rose-satin fining.
The boxes are painted by artists, and remain a lovely
belonging for a toilet table.

Beautiful metal reproductions of some antique chef
(Poeuvre are made into bonbonnieres. Some bonbon-

BONBONS. 167

bcxes have themselves concealed in huge bouquets of
violets, fringed with lace, or hidden under roses, which
are skilfully growing out of white satin ; beautiful reti-
cules, all embroidered, hold the carefully bound up pack-
ages, where tinfoil preserves the silk and satin from con-
tact with the sugar. If France did nothing else but
mcke bonbonnieres, she would prove her claim to being
the most ingenious purveyor for the luxury of entertain-
ing in all the world. If luxury means, " to freight the
passing hour with flying happiness," France does her
'* pssible " as she would say herself, to help along this
fairy packing.

A.t Easter, when sweetmeats are almost as much in
request as at the New Year, — the French make very
litle of Christmas, — these bonbon establishments are
filed with Easter eggs of the gayest colours. There are
nests of eggs, baskets of eggs, cradles full of eggs, and
pjetty peasants carrying eggs to market ; nests of eggs,
with birds of brilliant plumage sitting on the nests or
hovering over them, while their freight of bonbons repose
on softest swan's-down, lace, and satin ; or again, the ^gg
itself of satin, with its yolk of orange creams and its
white of marshmallow paste. There is no end to this
felicitous and dulcet strain.

The best candied fruit I have ever eaten, I bought in a
railway depot at Venice. The Italians understand this
art to perfection. They hang the fruit by its natural
stem on a long straw ; and no better accompaniment for
a long railway journey can be imagined.

The French do not consider bonbons unhealthful.
Instead of giving her boy a piece of bread and butter as
he departs for the Lycee the French mamma gives him
two or three chocolate bonbons. The hunter takes these

1 68 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING. /

to the top of the Matterhorn ; ladies take them in their
pockets instead of a lunch-basket ; and one assured ne
that two slabs of chocolate sufficed her for breakfast ind
supper on the road from Paris to Rome.

I do not know what Baron Liebig would say to thife in
his learned articles on the " Nutritive Value of Certain
Kinds of Food," but the French children seem to be |he
healthiest in the world, — a tribute to chocolate of (he
highest. "By their fruits shall ye know them."

In the times of the Medici, and the St. Bartholonew
Massacre, the French and Italian nobles had a curiius
custom of always carrying about with them, in the pocktts
of their silk doublets, costly little boxes full of bonbois.
Henry IV., Marie de Medici, and all their friends a|id
foes, carried about with them little gold and Limo^s
enamelled boxes, very pretty and desirable articles of
vertii now ; and doubtless there was one full of red aid
white comfits in the pocket of Mary Queen of Scots,
when she fell dead, poor, ill-used, beautiful woman, at
the foot of the block, at Fotheringay. Doubtless there
was one in the pouch of the grisly Due de Guise, with his
close-cropped bullet head, and long, spidery legs, when
he fell, done to death by treacherous Catherine de
Medici, dead and bleeding on the polished floor of
Blois ! It was a childish custom, and proved that the
age had a sweet tooth ; but it might have been useful for
diplomatic purposes, and highly conducive to flirting. As
a Lord Chief Justice once said that "snuff" and snuff'-boxes
help to develop character," so the bonbormiere helps
to emphasize manners ; and I am always pleased when
an old or new friend opens for me a httle silver box and
offers me a sugared violet, or a rose leaf conserved in
sugar, although I can eat neither of them.

BONBONS. 169

A witty writer says that dessert should be " the giran-
dole, or cunning tableau of the dinner." It should
" surprise, astonish, dazzle, and enchant." We may al-
most decide upon the taste of an age as we read of its
desserts. The tasteless luxury and coarse pleasures of
the reign of Charles II., — that society where Rochester
fluttered and Buckingham flaunted, — how it is all de-
scribed in one dessert ! At a dinner given the father (of
a great many) of his subjects by Lady Dormer, was built
a large gilded ship of confectionery. Its masts, cabins,
portholes, and lofty poop all smart and glittering, its rig-
ging all taut, its bunting flying, its figure-head bright as
gold leaf could make it. Its guns were charged with
actual powder. Its cargo was two turreted pies, one full
of birds and the other of frogs. When borne in by the
gay pages, to the sound of music, the guns were dis-
charged, the ladies srceamed and fainted, so as to '* re-
quire to be held up and consoled by the gallants, who
offered them sips of Tokay." Poor little things ! Such
was the Court of Charles.

Then, to sweeten the smell of powder, the ladies threw
at each other egg-shells filled with fragrant waters ; and
" all danger being over," they opened the pies. Out of
one skipped live frogs ; out of the other flew live birds
who put out the lights ; so, what with the screams, the
darkness, the frogs, and the smell of powder, we get an
idea of sports at Whitehall, where blackbrowed, swarthy-
visaged Charles presided, on which grave Clarendon
condescended to smile, and which the gentle Evelyn and
Waller were condemned to approve.

We have not entirely refrained from such sugar em-
blems at our own great feasts ; but fortunately, they have
rather gone out, excepting for some emblem-haunted

I/O THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

dinners where we do have sugared Monitors, and choco-
late torpedos. I have seen the lovely Venus of Milo in
frozen cream, which gave a wit the opportunity of saying
that the home for such a goddess should be the temple
of Isis ; and Bartholdi's immortal Liberty lends herself to
chocolate and nougat now and then, but very rarely at
private dinners.

The fashion of our day, with its low dishes for the sweets,
is so much better, that we cannot help congratulating
ourselves that we do not live even in the days of the first
George, when, as one witty author again says, " the
House of Brunswick brought over sound protestantism,
but German taste." Horace Walpole, great about trifles,
incomparable decider of the width of a shoe-buckle, keen
despiser of all meannesses but his own, neat and fastidi-
ous tripper along a flowery path over this vulgar planet,
derided the new fashion in desserts. The ambitious con-
fectioners, he says, " aspired to positive statuary, spindle-
legged Venus, dummy Mars, all made of sugar ; " and he
mentions a confectioner of Lord Albemarle's who loudly
complained that his lordship would not break up the
ceiling of his dining-room to admit the heads, spear-
points and upraised thunderbolts of a middle dish of
Olympian deities eighteen feet high, all made of sugar.

The dishes known in France as Les Quatres Men-
diants, one of nuts, one of figs or dried fruit, one of
raisins, and another of oranges, still to be seen on old-
fashioned dinner-tables, was, I supposed, so called be-
cause it is seldom touched, — in fact, goes a-begging.

But I have found this pretty little legend, which proves
that it was far more poetical in origin. The name in
French for aromatic vinegar is also connected with it.
It is called ^' The Vinegar of the Four Thieves." So

BONBONS. 171

runs the legend : " Once four thieves of Marseilles, rub-
bing themselves with this vinegar during the plague, de-
fied infection and robbed the dead." Who were these
wretches? All that we know of them is that they dined
beneath a tree on stolen walnuts' and grapes, and im-
agined the repast a feast. We can picture them, Holbein
men with slashed sleeves, as old soldiers of Francis I.
who had wrestled with the Swiss. We can imagine them
as beaten about by Burgundian peasants ; and we know
that they were grim, brown, scarred rascal*, cutting
purses, snatching silken cloaks, — sturdy, resolute, heart-
less, merry, desperate, God-forsaken scoundrels, living
only for the moment. We can imagine Callot etching
their rags, or Rembrandt putting in their dark shadows
and high lights. We can see Salvator Rosa admiring
them as they sleep under the green oak-tree, their heads
on a dead deer, and the high rock above. Or we may
get old Teniers to draw them for us, gambling with torn
and greasy cards for a gold crucifix or a brass pot, or
revelling at the village inn, swaggering, swearing, drunk,
or tipsy, playing at shuffle-board. The only point in
their history worth recording is that they were destined
to be asked to every dinner party for four hundred
years ! — simply preceding the bonbons, as we see by the
following verses : —

" Once on a time, in the brave Henry's age,
Four beggars dining underneath a tree
Combhied their stores ; each from his wallet drew
Handfuls of stolen fruit, and sang for glee.

" So runs the story, — ' Carbon, bring the carte,
Soup, cutlets — stay — and mind, a matelotte^
And 'Charles, — a pint of Burgundy's best Beanne";
In our deep glasses every joy shall float! '

17^ THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

" And * Gar^oii, bring me from the woven frail

That turbaned merchants from fair Smyrna sent,
The figs with golden seeds, the honeyed fruit,
That feast the stranger in the Syrian tent.

** * Go fetch us grapes from all the vintage rows

Where the brave Spaniards gaily quaff the wine,
What time the azure ripple of the waves
Laughs bright beneath the green leaves of the vine !

" * Nor yet, unmindful of the fabled scrip,
Forget the nuts from Barcelona's shore,
Soaked in Iberian oil from olives pressed,
To the crisp kernels adding one charm more.

" 'The almonds last, plucked from a sunny tree.
Half way up Lybanus, blanched as snowy white
As Leila's teeth, and they will fitly crown
The beggars' four-fold dish for us to-night.

" * Beggars are happy ! then let us be so ;

We 've buried care in wine's red-glowing sea.
There let him soaking lie — he was our foe;
Joy laughs above his grave — and so will we ! * "

It was from that love of contrast, then, was it, which is
a part of all luxury, that the fable of the Quatre Alen-
diants was made to serve like the olives at dessert.
Perhaps the fillip which walnuts give to wine suggested
it. It was a modern French rendering of the skull
made to do duty as a drinking-cup. It is a part of the
five kernels of corn at a Pilgrim dinner, without that
high conscientiousness of New England. It is a part,
perhaps, of the more melancholy refrain, " Be merry, be
merry, for to-morrow ye die ! " It is that warmth is
warmer when we remember cold ; it is that food is good
when we remember the starving ; it is that bringing in of
the pleasant vision of the four beggars under the tree,

BONBONS. 173

as a picture perhaps ; at any rate there it is, moral at
your pleasure.

The desserts of the middle ages were heavy and
cumbrous affairs, and had no special character. There
would be a good deal of Cellini cup and Limoges plate,
and Palissy dish, and golden chased goblet about it, no
doubt. How glad the collectors of to-day would be to
get them ! And we picture the heavy indigestible cakes,
and poisonous bonbons. The taste must have been
questionable if we can believe Ben Jonson, who tells of
the beribboned dwarf jester who, at a Lord Mayor's
dinner, took a flying header into a dish of custard, to
the infinite sorrow of ladies' dresses ; he followed, prob-
ably, that dish in which the dwarf Sir Geoffrey Hudson
was concealed, and they both are after Tom Thumb, who
was fishing about in a cup of posset a thousand years
ago.

The dessert is allowed by all French writers to be of
Italian origin ; and we read of the maitres (T hotel, before
the Italian dessert arrived, probably introduced by
Catherine de Medici and the Guises, that they gloried
in mountains of fruit, and sticky hills of sweetmeats. The
elegance was clumsy and ostentatious ; there was no
poetry in it. Paul Veronese's picture of the " Marriage of
Cana " will give some idea of the primeval French dessert.
The later fashion was of those trees and gardens and
puppets abused by Horace Walpole ; but Frenchmen
delighted in seas of glass, flower-beds formed of coloured
sand, and little sugar men and women promenading in
enamelled bowling-greens. We get some idea of the
magnificent fetes of Louis XIV. at Versailles from the
glowing descriptions of Moliere.

Dufoy in 1805 introduced " frizzled musUn into a slice

174 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

of fairyland ; " that is, he made extraordinary pictures of
temples and trees, for the centre of his dessert. And
these palaces and temples were said to have been of
perfect proportions; his trees of frizzled muslin were
admirable. It sounds very much like children's toys
just now.

He went further, Dufoy ; having ransacked heaven and
earth, air and water, he thrust his hand into the fire, and
made harmless rockets shoot from his sugar temples.
Sugar rocks were strewn about with precipices of nougat,
glaciers of vanilla candy, and waterfalls of spun sugar.
A confectioner in 1805 had to keep his wits about him,
for after every victory of Napoleon he was expected to do
the whole thing in sugar. He was decorator, painter,
architect, sculptor, and florist — icer, yes, until after the
Russian campaign, and then — they had had enough ot
ice. Thus we see that the dessert has always been more
for the eye than for the stomach.

The good things which have been said over the wal-
nuts and the wine ! The pretty books written about
claret and olives ! One author says that if all the good
things which have been said about the gay and smiling
dessert could be printed, it would make a pleasant
anecdotic little pamphlet of four thousand odd pages !

We must not forget all the absurdities of the dessert.
The Prince Regent, whose tastes inclined to a vulgar
and spurious Orientalism, at one of his costly feasts at
Carleton House had a channel of real water running
around the table, and in this swam gold and silver fish.
The water was only let on at dessert.

These fancies may be sometimes parodied in our own
time, as the bonbon makers of Paris now devote their
talents to the paper absurdities of harlequins, Turks,

BONBONS. 175

Chinamen, and all the vagaries of a fancy-dress ball with
which the passengers of steamships amuse themselves
after the Captain's dinner. This is not that legitimate
dessert at which we now find ices disguised as natural
fruits, or copying a rose. All the most beautiful forms
in the world are now reproduced in the frozen water or
cream, as healthful as it is delicious, in the famous jelly
with maraschino, or the delicate bonbon with the price-
less liqueur, or, better still, that eau de menthe cordial, our
own green peppermint, which, after all, saves as by one
mouthful from the horrors of indigestion and adds that
" thing more exquisite still " to the perfect dessert, — a
good night's sleep.

FAMOUS MENUS AND RECIPES.

Gather up the fragments that remain that nothing be lost.

JOHNvi. 12.

THIS is not intended to be a cookery book ; but in
order to help the young housekeeper we shall give
some hints as to menus and a few rare recipes.

The great hne of seacoast from New York to Florida
presents us with some unrivalled delicacies, and the
negroes of the State of Maryland, which was founded
by a rich and luxurious Lord Baltimore, knew how to
cook the terrapin, the canvas-back duck, oysters, and the
superb wild turkey, — not to speak of the well-fattened
poultry of that rich and luxurious Lorraine of America,
"Maryland, my Maryland," which Oliver Wendell
Holmes calls the " gastronomical centre of the uni-
verse."

Here is an old Virginia recipe for cooking terrapin,
which is rare and excellent : —

Tak^ three large, live, diamond-backed terrapin, plunge
them in boihng water for three minutes, to take off the skin,
wipe them clean, cook them in water slightly salted, drain
them, ht them get cold, open and take out everything from
the shell. In removing the entrails care must be taken not
to break the gall. Cut off the head, tail, nails, gall, and
bladder. Cut the meat in even-size pieces, put them in a
sauce-pan with four ounces of butter, add the terrapin eggs,
and moisten them with a half pint of Madeira wine. Let
the mixture cook until the moisture is reduced one-half. Then

FAMOUS MENUS AND RECIPES. 177

add two spoonfuls of cream sauce. After five minutes add
the yolks of four raw eggs diluted with a half-cup of cream.
Season with salt and a pinch of red pepper. The mixture
should not boil after the yolk of egg is added. Toss in two
ounces of butter before serving. The heat of the mess will
cook egg and butter enough. Serve with quartered lemon.

This is, perhaps, if well-cooked, the most excellent of
all American dishes.

A chicken gumbo soup is next : —

Cut up one chicken, wash and dry it, dip it in flour, salt
and pepper it, then fry it in hot lard to a delicate brown.

In a soup kettle place five quarts of water and your
chicken, let it boil hard for two hours, cut up twenty-four
okra pods, add them to the soup, and boil the whole another
hour. One large onion should be put in with the chicken.
Add red pepper to taste, also salt, not too much, and serve
with rice. Dried okra can be used, but must be soaked over
night.

Another Maryland success was the tomato catsup : —

Boil one bushel of tomatoes until soft, squeeze through a
sieve, add to the juice half a gallon of vinegar, i}4 pints
salt, 3 ounces of whole cloves, i ounce of allspice, 2 ounces
of cayenne pepper, 3 tablespoonfuls of black pepper, 3
heads of garlic, skinned and separated ; boil three hours or
until the quantity is reduced one-half, bottle without skim-
ming. The spices should be put in a muslin bag, which
must be taken out, of course, before bottling. If desired i
peck of onions can be boiled, passed through a sieve, and
the juice added to the tomatoes.

Green pepper pickles : Half a pound of mustard seed
soaked over night, i quart of green pepper chopped, 2 quarts
of onions chopped, 4 quarts of cucumbers also chopped, 8
quarts of green tomatoes chopped, 6 quarts of cabbage
chopped ; mix and measure. To every gallon of this mixture
add one teacup of salt, let it stand until morning, then
squeeze perfectly dry with the hands. Then add 8 pounds

12

1/8 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

of sugar, and cover with good vinegar and boil five minutes.
After boiling, and while still hot, squeeze perfectly dry, then
add 2 ounces of cloves, 2 ounces of allspice, 3 ounces of
cinnamon and the mustard seed.

The peppers should be soaked in brine thirty-six or forty-
eight hours. After soaking, wipe dry and stuff, place them
in glass jars, and cover with fresh vinegar.

This was considered the triumph of the Southern
housekeeper.

Chicken with spaghetti: Stir four sliced onions in two
ounces of butter till very soft, add one quart of peeled
tomatoes ; stew chicken in water until tender, and pick to
pieces. Add enough of the gravy to make a quart, put with
the onions and tomatoes. Let it stew fifteen minutes gently.
Put into boiling water 2_J^ pounds of spaghetti and a
handful of salt, boil twenty minutes or until tender ; drain
this and put in a layer on a platter sprinkled with grated
cheese, and pour the stew on it. Fill the platter with these
layers, reserving the best of the chicken to lay on top.

The old negro cooks made a delicious confection
known as confection cake. Those who lived to tell of
having eaten it declared that it was a dream. It cer-
tainly leads to dreams, and bad ones, but it is worth a
nightmare : —

1% cups of sugar, 2%. cups of flour, % cup of butter,
yi cup of sweet milk, whites of six eggs, 3 small teaspoons
of baking powder. Bake in two or three layers on a griddle.

Filling: i small cocoanut grated, i pound almonds
blanched, and cut up not too fine, i teacup of raisins chopped,
I teacup of citron chopped, 4 eggs, whites only, 7 table-
spoonfuls of pulverized sugar to each tgg.

Mix this destructive substance well in the froth of
egg, and spread between the layers of cake when they
are hot ; set it a few minutes in the oven, but do not

FAMOUS MENUS AND RECIPES. 1/9

burn it, and you have a delicious and profoundly indi-
gestible dessert. You will be able to write Sartor Re-
sartus, after eating of it freely.

Walnut Cake : i cup of butter, 2 cups of sugar, 6 eggs,
4 cups of flour, I cup of milk, 2 teaspoonfuls of yeast
powder.

This is also baked in layers, and awaits the dynamite
filling which is to blow you up : —

Walnut Filling: 2 cups of brown sugar, i cup of cream,
a piece of butter the size* of an ^gg. Cook twenty minutes,
stirring all the time ; when ready to take off the stove put in
one cup of walnut meats. After this has cooked a few min-
utes longer, spread between the layers, and while both cake
and filling are hot.

Perhaps a few menus may be added here to assist the
memory of her " who does not know what to have for
dinner : " —

Tomato Soup,

Golden Sherry. Whitefish broiled. Claret.

Mashed potatoes.

Round of beef braise, Madeira.

with glazed onions.

Champagne. Roast plover with cress. Chateau Yquem.

Chiccory Salad.

Custard flavoured with vanilla.

Cheese. Cordials.

Chambertin. Fruit.

Coffee.

Or a plain dinner : —

Sherry. Oxtail Soup. Claret

Filet of lobster h la Mazarin.

Turkey rings with puree of chestnuts.

Salad of fresh tomatoes.

Cream tart with meringue. Cheese.

l80 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

This last dinner is perhaps enough for only a small
party, but it is very well composed. A much more elab-
orate menu follows : —

Oysters on the half-shell.

Soup :

Consomme royale.

Fish : Rudesheimer.

Fried smelts, sauce Tartare,
Duchess potatoes.
Sherry. Releves:

Boned capon.

Roast ham. Champagne.

Madeira, Entrees :

Sweetbreads braisi.

Quails. Claret.

Sorbet an kirsch.

Game :

Port, Broiled woodcock, Chambertin.

Canvas-back duck.

Vegetables :

Cauliflower, Spinach, French peas,

Stewed tomatoes. Chateau Yquem.

Dessert :

Frozen pudding, Biscuits Diplomats.

Meringues Chantilly^ Assorted Cake.

Fruit.

Brandy. Coffee. Cordials.

An excellent bill of fare for eight persons, in the month

of October, is the following : —

Soup.

Bisque of crayfish.

Fish.

Baked smelts, h la Mentone,

Potato balls, h la RouenaisCy

Ribs of beef braised, stewed with vegetables.

Brussels sprouts.

Roast birds, or quail on toast.

Celery salad-

FAMOUS MENUS AND RECIPES. l8l

To make a bisque of crayfish is a very delicate opera-
tion, but it is worth trying : —

Have three dozen live crayfish, wash them well, and take
the intestines out by pinching the extreme end of the centre
fin, when with a sudden jerk the gall can be withdrawn.
Put in a stewpan two ounces of butter, with a carrot, an
onion, two stalks of celery, two ounces of salted pork, all
sliced fine, and a bunch of parsley ; fry ten minutes, add the
crayfish, with a pint of French white wine and a quart of
veal broth. Stir and boil gently for an hour, then drain all
in a large strainer, take out the bunch of parsley and save
the broth ; pick the shells off the crayfish tails, trim them
neatly and keep until wanted. Cook separately a pint and
a half of rice, with three pints of veal broth, pound the rest
of the crayfish and vegetables, add the rice, pound again,
dilute with the broth of the crayfish, and add more veal broth
if too thick. Pass forcibly through a fine sieve with a
wooden presser, put the residue in a saucepan, warm with-
out boiling, and stir all the while with a wooden, spoon.
Finish with three ounces of table butter, a glass of Madeira
wine, and a pinch of cayenne pepper ; serve hot in soup tu-
reen with the crayfish tails.

To prepare baked sinelts a la Meiitone : Spread in a large
and narrow baking-dish some fish forcemeat half an inch
thick, have two dozen large, fresh, well-cleaned smelts, lay
them down in a row on the forcemeat, season with salt, pep-
per, and grated nutmeg, pour over a thick white Italian
sauce, sprinkle some bread crumbs on them, put a small pat
of butter on each one and bake for half an hour in a pretty
hot oven, then squeeze the juice of a lemon over and serve in
a baking-dish.

To 7nake potato balls a la Rouenaise : Boil the potatoes
and rub them fine, then roll each ball in white of Qgg, lay
them on a floured table, roll into shape of a pigeon's e.gg^ dip
them in melted butter, and fry a light brown in clear hot
grease. Sprinkle fine salt over and serve in a folded napkin.

To prepare braised ribs of beef : Have a small set of three

1 82 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

ribs cut short, cook it as beef a la vtode^ that is, stew it with
spices and vegetables, dish it up with carrots, turnips, and
onions, pour the reduced gravy over.

To firepare Brussels sprouts^ demi-glace : Trim and wash
the sprouts, soak them in boiUng salted water about thirty
minutes, cool them in cold water, and drain them. Put six
ounces of butter in a large frying-pan, melt it and put the
sprouts in it, season with salt and pepper, fry on a brisk fire
until thoroughly hot, serve in a dish with a rich drawn-butter
sauce with chopped parsley.

A diplomatic supper was once served at the White
House, of which the following menu is an accurate

report : —

Salmon with green sauce.
Cold boned turkey, with truffles.

Pates of game, truffled.

Ham cooked in Madeira sauce,

Aspic of chicken.

Pate de foie gras.

Salads of chicken and lobster in forms, surrounded by jelly.

Pickled oysters. Sandwiches.

Scalloped oysters.

Stewed terrapin.

Chicken and lobster croquettes.

Chocolat h la crbne. Coffee.

Dessert :

Ices. Fancy meringue baskets filled with cream.

Pancakes. Large cakes.

Fancy jellies. Charlotte Russe.

Fruits.

Cake. Wafers. Nougat.

One could have satisfied an appetite with all this.

General Grant was probably the most feted American

who ever visited Europe. He was entertained by every

monarch and by many most distinguished citizens. The

Duke of Wellington opened the famous Waterloo Room

FAMOUS MENUS AND RECIPES. 1 83

in Apsley House in his honour, and toasted him as the
first soldier of the age. But it is improbable that he
ever had a better dinner than the following : —

It was given to him in New York, in 1880, at the
Hotel Brunswick. It was for ten people only, in a pri-
vate parlour, arranged as a dining-room en suite with the
Venetian parlour. The room was in rich olive and
bronze tints. The buffet glittered with crystal, and Ve-
netian glass. On the side tables were arranged the
coffee service and other accessories. The whole room
was filled with flowers, the chandelier hung with smilax,
dotted with carnations. The table was arranged with
roses, heliotrope, and carnations, the deep purple and
green grapes hanging over gold dishes. The dinner
service was of white porcelain with heliotrope border,
the glass of iridescent crystal. The furnishing of the
Venetian parlour, the rich carvings, the suits of armour,
the antique chairs were all mediaeval ; the dinner was
modern and American : —

Oysters.

Soup, CoJisonune Royale.

Fish :

Fried smelts, sauce Tartare.

Releves :

Boned capon.

Entrees :

Sweetbreads, braise. Quails, h la Perigord.

Sorbet an kirsch.

Game.

Broiled woodcock, Canvas-back duck.

Terrapin.

Vegetables :

Cauliflower, Spinach, Artichokes, French peas.

Dessert :

Biscuits Diplomatiqties, Frozen pudding,

Meringtie Chantilly, Assorted cakes.

Fruit. Coffee. Cigars.

Liqueurs.

lS4 THE ART OF ENTERTAININC.

Probably the last item interested and amused the
General, who was no gourmet, much more than even the
terrapin.

This menu for a November dinner cannot be
surpassed.

COOKERY AND WINES OF THE SOUTH
OF EUROPE.

Aufidius for his morning beverage used
Honey in strong Falernian wine infused ;
But here methinks he showed his want of brains ;
Drink less austere best suits the empty veins.

Shell fish afford a lubricating slime !

But then you must observe both place and time.

They 're caught the finest when the moon is new ;

The Lucrine far excel the Eaian too.

Misenum shines in cray fish ; Circe most

In oysters ; scollops let Tarentum boast.

The culinary critic first should learn

Each nicer shade of flavour to discern :

To sweep the fish stalls is mere show at best

Unless you know how each thing should be drest.
Let boars of Umbrian game replete with mast,
If game delights you, crown the rich repast.

Satires of Horace.

ITALIAN cookery is excellent at its best. The same
drift of talent, the same due sense of proportion
which showed itself in all their art, which built St.
Mark's and the Duomo, the Ducal Palace, the Rialto,
and the churches of Palladio, comes out in their cookery.
Their cooks are Michel Angelo and Leonardo da Vinci in
a humbler sphere.

They mingle cheese in cookery, with great effect ;
nothing can be better than their cauliflower covered with

1 86 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Parmesan cheese, and baked. Macaroni in all its
forms is of course admirable. They have mastered the
use of sweet oil, which in their cookery never tastes oily ;
it is simply a lambent richness.

The great dish, wild boar, treated with a sweet and a
sour sauce, with pine cones, is an excellent dish. Wild
boar is a lean pork with a game flavour. All sorts of
birds, especially becafico, are well cooked, they lose no
juice or flavour over the fire.

They make a dozen preparations of Indian meal,
which are very good for breakfast. One little round
cake, like a muffin, tastes almost of eocoanut ; this is
fried in oil, and is most delicious.

The fritfala is another well-known dish, and is com-
posed of liver, bacon, and birds, aU pinned on a long
stick, or iron pin.

In an Italian palace, if you have the good luck to be
asked, the dinner is handsome. It is served in twelve
courses in the Russian manner, and if national dishes are
ofl'ered they are disguised as inelegant. But at an ordi-
nary farmhouse in the hifls near Florence, or at the
ordinary hotels, there will be a good soup, trout fresh
from the brooks, fresh butter, macaroni with cheese, a
fat capon, and a delicious omelette, enriched with
morsels of kidney or fat bacon, a frittala, a bunch of
grapes, a bottle of Pogio secco, or the sweet Italian
straw wine.

The Italians are very frugal, and would consider the
luxurious overflow of American munificent hospitality as
vulgar. At parties in Rome, Naples, and Florence it is
not considered proper to ofi'er much refreshment. At
Mr. Story's delightful receptions American hospitality
reigned at afternoon tea, as it did in all houses where

COOKERY, ETC., OF SOUTHERN EUROPE. 1 8/

the hostess was American, but at the houses of the
Princes nothing was offered but weak wine and water
and little cakes.

Many travellers have urged that the cookery of the
common Italian dinner is too much flavoured with garlic,
but in a winter spent in travelling through Italy I did
not find it so. I remember a certain leg of lamb with
beans which had a slight taste of onions, but that is
all. They have learned, as the French have, that the
onion is to cookery what accent is to speech. It should
not be trop prononcee. The lamb and pistachio nuts of
the Arabian Nights is often served and is delicious.

They give you in an Italian country house for break-
fast, at twelve o'clock, a sort of thick soup, very savoury,
probably made of chicken with an herb like okra, one
dish of meat smothered in beans or tomatoes, followed
by a huge dish of macaroni with cheese, or with morsels
of ham through it. Then a white curd with powdered
cinnamon, sugar, and wine, a bottle of vino santo, a cup
of coffee or chocolate, and bread of phenomenal white-
ness and lightness.

Alas, for the poor people ! They live on the chest-
nuts, the frogs, or nothing. The porter at the door of
some great house is seen eating a dish of frogs, which
are, however, so well cooked that they send up an appe-
tizing fragrance more hke a stew of crabs than anything
else. One sees sometimes a massive ancient house,
towering up in mediaeval grandeur, with shafts of marble,
and columns of porphyry, lonely, desolate, and beautiful,
infinitely impressive, infinitely grand. Some member of
a once illustrious family lives within these ruined walls,
on almost nothing. He would have to kill his pet falcon
to give you a dinner, while around hi§ time-honourecj

1 88 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

house cluster his tenants shaking with malaria, — pale,
unhappy, starved people. It is not a cheerful sight, but
it can be seen in southern Italy.

The prosperous Italians will give you a well- cooked
meal, an immense quantity of bonbons, and the most ex-
quisite candied fruits. Their C07ifetti are wonderful, their
cakes and ices, their candied fruit, their ////// frutti, are
beyond all others. They crown every feast with a Para-
dise in spun sugar.

But they despise and fear a fire, and foreigners are apt
to find the old Italian palaces dreary, and very cold. A
recent traveller writes from Florence : " I have been
within the walls of five Italian houses at evening parties,
at three of them, music and no conversation ; all except
one held in cold rooms, the floors black, imperfectly
covered with drugget, and no fire ; conversation, to me
at least, very dull ; the topics, music, personal slander, —
for religion, government, and literature, were generally
excluded from polite society. In only one house, of
which the mistress was a German, was tea handed around ;
sometimes not even a cup of water was passed." We
learn from the novels of Marion Crawford that the Ital-
ians do not often eat in each others' houses.

Victor Emmanuel, the mighty hunter, had a mighty
appetite. He used to dine alone, before the hour
for the State dinner. Then with sword in hand, lean-
ing on its jewelled hilt, in full uniform, his breast
covered with orders, the King sat at the head of his
table, and talked with his guests while the really
splendid dinner was served.

Royal banquets are said to be dull. The presence of
a man so much above the others in rank has a depressing
effect. The guest must console himself with the glorious

COOKERY, ETC., OF SOUTHERN EUROPE. 1 89

past of Italy, and fix his eyes on the magnificent furni-
ture of the table, the cups of Benvenuto Cellini, the
vases of Capo di Monti, the superb porcelain, and the
Venetian glass, or he must devote himself to the lamb
and pistachio nuts, the choux fleurs aux Farmesa?i, or the
truffles, which are nowhere so large or so fine as at an
Italian dinner. Near Rome they are rooted out of the
oak forests by the king's dogs, and are large and full of
flavour.

King Humbert has inherited his father's taste for
hunting, and sends presents of the game he has shot to
his courtiers.

The housekeeping at the Quirinal is excellent ; a royal
supper at a royal ball is something to remember. And
what wines to wash them down with ! — the delicious
Lacryma Christi, the Falerno or Capri, the Chianti, the
Sestio Levante or Asti. Asti is a green wine, rich, strong,
and sweet. It makes people ill if they drink it before it
is quite old enough — but perhaps it is not often served
at royal banquets.

Verdeaux was a favourite wine of Frederic the Great,
but Victor Emmanuel's wine was the luscious Monte
Pidciano.

" Monte Pulciano d'ogni vino e il Re."

The brilliant purple colour, like an amethyst, of this
noble wine is unlike any other. The aromatic odour is
deUcious ; its sweetness is tempered by an agreeable
sharpness and astringency ; it leaves a flattering flavour
on the tongue.

These best Italian wines have a deliciousness which
eludes analysis, like the famous Monte Beni, which old
Tommaso produced in a small straw-covered flask at the
visit of Kenyon to Donatello. This invaluable wine

1 90 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

was of a pale golden hue, like other of the rarest Italian
wines, and if carelessly and irreligiously quaffed, might
have been mistaken for a sort of champagne. It was
not, however, an effervescing wine, although its delicate
piquancy produced a somewhat similar effect upon the
palate. Sipping, the gaest longed to sip again, but the
wine demanded so dehberate a pause in order to detect
the hidden peculiarities, and subtile exquisiteness of its
flavour, that to drink it was more a moral than a physical
delight. There was a deliciousness in it which eluded
description, and like whatever else that is superlatively
good was perhaps better appreciated by the memory
than by present consciousness. One of its most ethereal
charms lay in the transitory life of the wine's richest
qualities ; for while it required a certain leisure and delay,
yet if you lingered too long in the draught, it became
disenchanted both of its fragrance and flavour. The
lustre and colour should not be forgotten among the
other good qualities of the Monte Beni wine, for " as it
stood in Kenyon's glass, a little circle of light glowed on
the table around about it as if it were really so much
golden sunshine."

There are few wines worthy of this beautiful eloquence
of Hawthorne. The description bears transportation;
the wine did not. The transportation of even a few
miles turned it sour. That is the trouble with Italian
wines. Monte Pulciano and Chianti do bear transporta-
tion. Italy sends much of the latter wine to New York.
Italy has, however, never produced a really good dry
wine, with all its vineyards.

The dark Grignolino wine grown in the vineyards of
Asterau and Monferrato possesses the remarkable quality
of keeping better if diluted with fresh water.

COOKERY, ETC., OF SOUTHERN EUROPE. IQI

The Falernian from the Bay of Naples, is the wine of
the poets, nor need we remind the classical scholar that
the hills around Rome were formerly supposed to pro-
duce it.

The loose, volcanic soil about Mount Vesuvius grows
the grapes from which Lacryma Christi is produced. It
is sometimes of a rich red colour, though white and
sparkling varieties are produced.

The Italians are supremely fond of alfresco entertain-
ments, — their fine climate making out-of-door eating very
agreeable. How many a traveller remembers the break-
fast or dinner in a vine-covered loggia overhanging some
splendid scene ! It forms the subject of many a picture,
from those which illustrate the stories of Boccaccio up
to the beautiful sketch of Tasso, at the court of the
Due d'Este. The dangers of these feasts have been
immortalized in verse and prose from Dante down, and
Shakspeare has touched upon them twice. George
Eliot describes one in a '^loggia joining on a garden,
with all one side of the room open, and with numerous
groups of trees and statues and avenues of box, high
enough to hide an assassin," in her wonderful novel of
Romola. In modern days, since the Borgias are all
killed, no one need fear to eat out-of-doors in Italy.

Not much can be said of the cookery of Spain. In
the principal hotels of Spain one gets all the evils of
both Spanish and Gascon cookery. Garlic is the favour-
ite flavour, and the bad oil expressed from the olive,
skin, seed and all, allowed to stand until it is rancid, is
beloved of the Spanish, but hated by all other nations. I
believe, however, that an oUa podrida made in a Spanish
house is very good. It may not be inappropriate here
to give two recipes for macaroni. The first, macaroni

19^ THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

ate gratin is very rarely found good in an American
house : —

Break two ounces of best Italian macaroni into a pint of
highly seasoned stock, let it simmer until very tender.
When done, toss it up with a small piece of butter, and add
pepper and salt to taste ; put in a large meat dish, sift over
it some fried bread-crumbs, and serve. It will take about an
hour to cook, and should be covered with the stock all the
time.

Macaroni with Parmesan cheese: Boil two ounces of
macaroni in half a pint of water, with an ounce of butter, un-
til perfectly tender. If the water evaporates add a little
more, taking care that the macaroni does not stick to the
stewpan, or become broken. When it is done, drain away
the water and stir in two ounces of good cheese grated, cay-
enne pepper and salt to taste. Keep stirring until the cheese
is dissolved. Pour on to a hot dish and serve. A little but-
ter maybe stirred into the macaroni before the cheese, and is
an improvement.

Through the Riviera, and indeed in the south of
France, one meets with many peculiar dishes. No one
who has read Thackeray need be reminded oibouillabaise,
that famous fish chowder of Marseilles. It is, however,
only our chowder with much red pepper. A cook can
try it if she chooses, and perhaps achieve it after many
failures.

There are so many very good dishes awaiting the ef-
forts of a young American housewife, that she need not
go out of her way to extemporize or explore. The best
cook-book for foreign dishes is still the old Francatelli.

The presence in our midst of Italian warehouses, adds
an infinite resource to the housewife. Those stimulants
to the appetite called hors d'ceuvres, we call them
relishes, are much increased by studying the list of

COOKERY, ETC., OF SOUTHERN EUROPE. 193

Italian delicacies. Anchovy or caviar, potted meat,
grated tongue, potted cheese, herring salad, the inevi-
table olive, and many other dehcacies could be mentioned
which aid digestion, and make the plainest table inex-
pensively luxurious. The Italians have all sorts of deli-
cate vegetables preserved in bottles, mixed and ready
for use in 2. jardiniere dressing ; also the best of cheeses,
gargonzala, and of course the truffle, which they know
how to cook so well.

The Italians have conquered the art of cooking in oil,
so that you do not taste the oil. It is something to live
for, to eat their fried things.

Speaking of the south of Europe reminds us of that
wonderful bit of orientalism out of place, which is called
Algiers, and which France has enamelled on her fabulous
and many-coloured shield. Algiers has become not only
a winter watering-place, high in favour with the traveller,
but it is a great wine-growing country. The official
statement of Lieut. Col. Sir R. L. Playfair, her Majesty's
consul-general, may be read with interest, dated 1889 :

"Viticulture in Algeria, was in 1778 in its infancy;
now nearly one hundred and twenty-five thousand acres
are under cultivation with vines, and during the last year
about nine hundred thousand hectolitres of wine were
produced. In 1873 Mr. Eyre Ledyard, an English cul-
tivator of the vine in Algeria, bought the property of
Chateau Hydra near Algiers. He found on it five acres
of old and badly planted vineyards, which produced
about seven hogsheads of wine. He has extended' this
vineyard and carried on his work with great intelligence
and industry. He cultivates the following varieties : the
Mourvedie, of a red colour resembling Burgundy, Cari-
guan, giving a wine good, dark, and rough, Alicante or

13

194 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Grenache, Petit Bouschet, Cabernot and Cot, a Bur-
gundy, Perian Lyra, Aramen, and St. Saux.

Chasselas succeeds well ; the grapes are exported to
France for the table.

Clairette produces abundantly and makes a good dry
wine. Ainin Kelb, more correctly Ain Kelb, dog's- eye,
is an Arab grape which makes a good strong wine, but
which requires keeping. Muscat is a capricious bearer.
From the two last-named varieties, sweet as well as dry
wines are produced by adding large quantities of alcohol
to the juice of the grape, and thus preventing fermenta-
tion. The crops yield quantities varying from seven
hundred gallons per acre in rich land to four hundred
on the hillside, except Cariguan which yields more.
Aramen yields as much, but the quality is inferior.

The red wines are sent to Bordeaux and Burgundy, to
give strength and quality to the French clarets, as they
are very useful for blending. The dry, white wine is
rather stronger and fuller than that of France or Ger-
many, and is much used to give additional value to the
thinner qualities of Rhine wine.

The cellars of Chateau Hydra, are now probably the
best in the colony. They are excavated in the soft rock
here incorrectly called tufa, in reality an aggregation of
minutely pulverized shells; it is soft and sandy, and
easily excavated. The surface becomes harder by
exposure to the atmosphere, and it is not subject to
crumbling.

Ml. Ledyard has excavated extensive cells in this
rock, in which extreme evenness of temperature is en-
sured, — a condition most necessary for the proper manu-
facture of wine.

Mr. Eyre Ledyard's vineyards and cellars of the

COOKERY, ETC., OF SOUTHERN EUROPE. 1 95

Chateau Hydra estate are now farmed by the Societe
Anony?7ie Viticole et Vinicole d' Hydra, of which Mr. Led-
yard is chairman. These wines have been so success-
fully shipped to England and other countries that the
company now buys grapes largely from the best vine-
yards, in order to make sufficient wines to meet the de-
mand. The Hydra Company supplies wine to all vessels
of the Ocean Company going to India and China. A
very carefully prepared quinine white wine is made for
invalids, and for use in countries where there is fever.
I especially recommend a trial of this last excellent wine
to Americans, as it is most agreeable as well as healthful.
The postal address is M. Le Gerant, Hydra Caves, Bir-
mandreis, Algiers.

All the stories of Algiers read like tales of the Arabian
Nights, and none is more poetic than the names and the
story of these delicious wines.

The Greek wines are well spoken of in Europe : San-
torin, and Zante, and St. EH^, and Corinth, and Mount
Hymettus, Vino Santo, and Cyprus, while from Magyar
vineyards come Visontae, Badescony, Dioszeg, Bakator,
Rust, Szamorodni, Oedenburger, Ofner, and Tokay.

The Hungarian wines are very heady. He must be a
swashbuckler who drinks them. They are said to make
the drinker grow fat. To this unhappy class Brillat
Savarin gives the following precepts : —

" Drink every summer thirty bottles of seltzer water,
a large tumbler the first thing in the morning, another
before lunch, and the same at bedtime.

" Drink white wines, especially those which are light
and acid, and avoid beer as you would the plague. Ask
frequently for radishes, artichokes with hot sauce, aspar-
agus, celery ; choose veal and fowl rather than beef and

196 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

mutton, and eat as little of the crumb of bread as
possible.

^' Avoid macaroni and pea soup, avoid farinaceous
food under whatever form it assumes, and dispense with
all sweets. At breakfast take brown bread, and chocolate
rather than coffee."

Indeed Brillat Savarin seems to have inspired this
later poet : —

" Talk of the nectar that flowed for celestials
Richer in headaches it was than hilarity !
Well for us animals, frequently bestials,
Hebe destroyed the recipe as a charity !
Once I could empty my glass with the best of 'em.
Somehow my system has suffered a shock o' late ;
Now I shun spirits, wine, beer, and the rest of 'em.
Fill me, then fill me, a bumper of chocolate.

*' Once I drank logwood, and quassia and turpentine.
Liqueurs with coxcubes, aloes, and gentian in,
Sure, 't is no wonder my path became serpentine,
Getting a state I should blush now to mention in.
Farewell to Burgundy, farewell to Sillery,
I have not tasted a drop e'en of Hock o' late,
Long live the kettle, my dear old distillery,
Fill me, oh fill me, a bumper of chocolate."

As we cannot all drink chocolate, I recommend the
carefully prepared white wine, with quinine in it, which
comes from Chateau Hydra in Algiers, or some of the
Italian wines, Barolo for instance, or the excellent native
wines which are produced in Savoy.

About Aix les Bains, where the cuisine is the best in
Europe, many wines are manufactured which are honest
wines with no headaches in them.

SOME ODDITIES IN THE ART OF
ENTERTAINING.

" Comparisons are odorous."

I prithee let me bring thee where crabs grow ;

And I with my long nails will dig thee pig nuts ;
Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how

To snare the nimble marmozet ; I '11 bring thee
To clustering filberds, and sometimes I '11 get thee

Young staniels from the rocks. Wilt thou go with me ?

The Tempest.

IN the lamb roasted whole we have one of the
earhest dishes on record in the history of cookery.
Stuffed with pistachio nuts, and served with pilaf, it il-
lustrates the antiquity of the art, and at the same time
gives an example of the food upon which millions of our
fellow creatures are sustained.

At a dinner of the Acclimatization Society in London,
all manner of strange and new dishes were offered, even
the meat of the horse. A roast monkey filled with
chestnuts was declared to be delicious ; the fawn of
fallow deer was described as good ; buffalo meat was
not so highly commended ; a red-deer ham was con-
sidered very succulent ; a sirloin of bear was " tough,
glutinous, and had, besides, a dreadful, half-aromatic,
half-putrescent flavour, as though it had been rubbed
with assafoetida and then hung for a month in a musk
shop."

198 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

We will not try bear unless we are put to it. How-
ever, at this same dinner — we read on — haunch of
venison, saddle of mutton, roast beef of old England,
which is really the roast beef which is of old Normandy
now, all gave way to a Chinese lamb roasted whole,
stuffed with pistachio nuts, and served with consousson, a
preparation of wheat used among the Moors, Africans,
and other natives of the north of Africa littoral, in place
of rice. The Moorish young ladies are, it is said,
fattened into beauty by an enforced meal of this
strengthening compound. The consoiisson is made into
balls and stuffed into the mouths of the marriageable
young lady, until she grows as tired of balls as a young
belle of three seasons.

In Spain, in those damp swamps near Valencia, where
the poor are old before forty and die before forty-five,
the best rice sells at eleven farthings, the poorest at
eight farthings per pound. This, cooked with the
ground dust oi pimienios, or capsicums, is the foundation
of every stew in the south of Spain. It is of a rich brick-
dust hue, and is full of fire and flavour. Into this stew
the cook puts the '' reptiles of the sea " known as
'' spotted cats," "toads " and other oily fish, sold at two
pence a pound, or the vogar, a silvery fish, or the gallina
a coarse fish, chick peas, garlic, pork, and sausages. If
rich she will make an olla podrida with bacon, fresh
meat, potatoes, cabbages, and she will pour off the soup,
calling it caldo, then the lumps of meat and bacon, called
cocida, will be served next. Then the cigarette is
smoked. If you are a king she will add a quince and
an apple to the stew.

Of puddings and pies they know notliing ; but what
fruit they have ! — watermelons weighing fifteen pounds

SOME ODDITIES IN ENTERTAINING. I99

apiece ; lemon pippins called pcrillons ; crimson, yellow,
and purple plums ; purple and green figs ; tomatoes by
the million ; carob beans, on which half the nation
lives ; small cucumbers and gourds ; large black grapes,
very sweet ; white grapes and quinces ; peaches in
abundance ; and all the chestnuts and filberts in the
world. In the summer they eat goat's flesh; and on
All Saints' Day they eat pork and chestnuts and sweet
babatas of Malaga. In exile, in Mexico and Florida,
the Spaniard eats alligator, which could scarcely be
called a game bird; but the flesh of young alligators'
tails is very fair, and tastes like chicken if the tail is cut
off immediately after death, and stewed.

The frost fish of the Adirondacks is seldom tasted,
except by those who have spent a winter in the North
Woods. They are delicious when fried. There is a
European fish as little known as this, the Marena, caught
in Lake Moris in the province of Pomerania, also in
one lake in southern Italy, which is very good.

There are two birds known in Prussia, the bustard,
and the kammel, the former a species of small ostrich,
once considered very fine eating, the latter very tough,
except under unusual conditions.

The Chinese enjoy themselves by night. All their
feasts and festivals are kept then, generally by moonlight.
When a Chinaman is poor he can live on a farthing's
worth of rice a day ; when he gets rich he becomes the
most luxurious of sybarites, indulges freely in the most
recherche delicacies of the table, and becomes, like any
Roman voluptuary, corpulent and phlegmatic. A lady
thus describes a Chinese dinner : —

*' The hour was eleven a. m., tha locale a boat. Hav-
ing heard much of the obnoxious stuff I was to eat, J

200 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

adopted the prescription of a friend. * Eat very little of
any dish, and be a long time about it.'

"We commenced with tea, and finished with soup.
Some of the intermediate dishes were shark's-fin ; birds'
nests brought from Borneo, costing nearly a guinea a
mouthful, fricassee of poodle, a little dog almost a pig ;
the fish of the conch-shell, a substance like wax or india
rubber, which you might masticate but never mash ; pea-
cock's liver, very fine and recherche ; putrid eggs, never-
theless very good ; rice, of course, salted shrimps, baked
almonds, cabbage in a variety of forms, green ginger,
stewed fungi, fresh fish of a dozen kinds, onions ad libi-
tum, salt duck cured like ham, and pig in every form,
roast, boiled, and fried, Foo-Chow ham which seemed to
me equal to Wiltshire. In fact, the Chinese excel in
pork, though the English there never touch it, under the
supposition that the pigs are fed on little babies.

" But this is a libel. Of course a pig would eat a
baby, as it would a rattlesnake if it came across one;
but the Chinese are very particular about their swine
and keep them penned up, rivalHng the Dutch in their
scrubbing and washing. They grow whole fields of taro
and herbs for their pigs. And I do not believe that one
porker in a million ever tastes a baby."

This traveller's sympathies appear to be with the pig.

" About two o'clock we arose from the table, walked
about, looked out of the window. Large brass bowls
were brought with water and towels. Each one pro-
ceeded to perform ablutions, the Chinese washing their
heads ; after which refreshing operation we resumed our
seats and re-commenced with another description of tea.

'' Seven different sorts of Samchou we partook of,
made from rice, from peas, from mangoes, cocoa-nut, all

SOME ODDITIES IN ENTERTAINING. 201

fermented liquors, and the mystery remained, — I was
not inebriated. The Samchou was drunk warm in tiny
cups, during the whole course of the dinner.

*' The whole was cooked without salt and tasted very
insipid to me. The bird's-nest seemed like glue or isin-
glass, but the coxcombs were palatable. The dog-meat
was like some very delicate gizzards well-stewed, and of a
short, close fibre. The dish which I most fancied turned
out to be rat. Upon taking a second help, after the first
taste I got the head, which made me rather sick ; but I
consoled myself that when in California we ate ground
squirrels which are first cousins to the flat-tailed rats ;
and travellers who would know the world must go in
for manners and customs. We had tortoise and frogs, —
a curry of the latter was superior to chicken; we had
fowls' hearts, and the brains of some birds, snipe, I
think. We had a chow-chow of mangoes, rambustan
preserved, salted cucumber, sweet potatoes, yams, taro,
all sorts of sweets made of rice sugar, and cocoa-nuts ;
and the soup which terminated the entertainment was
certainly boiled tripe or some other internal arrange-
ment ; and I wished I had halted some little time before.
The whole was eaten with chop-sticks or a spoon like
a small spade or shovel. The sticks are made into a
kind of fork, being held crosswise between the fingers.
It is not the custom for the sexes to meet at meals ; I
dined with the ladies."

This dinner has one suggestion for our hostesses, —
it was in a boat, on a river, by torchlight. We can, how-
ever, give a better one on a yacht at Newport, or at
New London, or down on the Florida coast ; but it would
be a pretty fancy to give it on our river. It is curious
to see what varieties there are in the art of entertaining j

202 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

and it is useful to remember, when in Florida, " that alli-
gators' tails are as good, when stewed, as chicken."

The eating of the past included, under the Romans,
the ass, the dog, the snail, hedge-hogs, oysters, as-
paragus, venison, wild-boar, sea-nettles. In England,
in 1272, the hostess offered strange dishes: mallards,
herons, swans, crane, and peacock. The peacock was,
of old, a right royal bird which figured splendidly at the
banquets of the great, and this is how the mediaeval
cooks dished up the dainty : —

" Flay off the skin, with the feathers, tail, neck, and
head thereon. Then take the skin and all the feathers and
lay it on the table, strewing thereon ground cumin ; then
take the peacock and roast him, and baste him with raw
yolks of eggs, and when he is roasted take him off and
let him cool awhile. Then sew him in his skin, and gild
his comb, and so send him forth for the last course."

Our Saxon ancestors were very fond, like the Span-
iards, of putting everything into the same pot ; and we
read of stews that make the blood boil. Travellers tell
us of dining with the Esquimaux, on a field of ice, when
tallow candles were considered delicious, or they found
their plates loaded with liver of the walrus. They
vary their dinners by helping themselves to a lump of
whale -meat, red and coarse and rancid, but very tooth-
some to an Esquimau, notwithstanding.

If they should sit down to a Greenlander's table they
would find it groaning under a dish of half-putrid whale's
tail, which has been lauded as a savoury matter, not un-
like cream cheese ; and the liver of a porpoise makes the
mouth water. They may finish their repast with a slice
of reindeer, or roasted rat, and drink to their host in a
bumper of train oil.

SOME ODDITIES IN ENTERTAINING. 203

In South America the tongue of a sea-Hon is esteemed
a great dehcacy. Fashion in Siam prescribes a curry of
ants' eggs as necessary to every well-ordered banquet.
The eggs are not larger than grains of pepper, and to
an unaccustomed palate have no particular flavour.
Besides being curried, they are brought to table rolled
in green leaves mingled with shreds or very fine slices of
pork.

The Mexicans make a species of bread of the eggs of
insects which frequent the fresh water of the lagoons.
The natives cultivate in the lagoon of Chalco a sort of
carex called tonte, on which the insects deposit their eggs
very freely. This carex is made into bundles and is soon
covered. The eggs are disengaged, beaten, dried, and
pounded into flour.

Penguins' eggs, cormorants' eggs, gulls' eggs, the eggs
of the albatross, turtles' eggs are all made subservient to
the table. The mother turtle deposits her eggs, about a
hundred at a time, in the dry sand, and leaves them to
be hatched by the genial sun. The Indian tribes who
live on the banks of the Orinoco procure from them a
sweet and limpid oil which is their substitute for butter.
Lizards' eggs are regarded as a bonne boiiche in the South
Sea Islands, and the eggs of the guana, a species of
lizard, are much favoured by West Indians. Alligators'
eggs are eaten in the Antilles and resemble hens' eggs in
size and shape.

We have spoken of horse-flesh as introduced at the
dinner of the Acclimatization Society, but it is hardly
known that the Frenchmen have tried to make it as
common as beef. Isidore St. Helain says of it, that it
has long been regarded as of a sweetish, disagreeable
taste, very tough, and not to be eaten without difficulty ;

204 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

but so many different facts are opposed to this prejudice
that it is impossible not to perceive the sHghtness of the
foundation. The free or wild horse is hunted as game
in all parts of the world where it exists, — Asia, Africa,
and America, and perhaps even now in Europe. The
domestic horse is itself made use of for alimentary
purposes in all those countries.

^' Its flesh is relished by races the most diverse, —
Negro, Mongol, Malay, American, Caucasian. It was
much esteemed until the eighth century amongst the
ancestors of some of the greatest nations of Western
Europe, who had it in general use and gave it up with
regret. Soldiers to whom it has been served out and
people who have bought it in markets, have taken it for
beef j and many people buy it daily in Paris for venison."

During the commune many people were glad enough
to get horse-flesh for the roast.

Locusts are eaten by many tribes of North American
Indians, and there is no reason why they should'not be
very good. The bushmen of Africa rejoice in roasting
spiders ; maggots tickle the palates of the Australian
aborigines ; and the Chinese feast on the chrysalis of a
silk- worm.

If this is what they ate, what then did they drink? No
thin potations, no half-filled cups for the early English.
Wine-bibbers and beer-bibbers, three-bottle men they
were down to one hundred years ago. Provocatives of
drink were called "shoeing horses," "whetters," "draw-
ers off and pullers on."

Massinger puts forth a curious test of these provoca-
tives : —

" I asked
Such an unexpected dainty bit for breakfast
As never yet I cooked ; 't is red botargo,

SOME ODDITIES IN ENTERTAINING. 20^

Fried frogs, potatoes marroned, cavear,

Carps' tongues, the pith of an English chine of beef.

Now one Italian delicate wild mushroom,

And yet a drawer on too ; and if you show not

An appetite, and a strong one, I '11 not say

To eat it, but devour it, without grace too,

For it will not stay a preface. I am shamed,

And all my past provocatives will be jeered at."

Ben Jonson affords us many a glimpse of the drinking
habits of all classes in his day.

After the Restoration, England seems to have aban-
doned herself to one great saturnalia, and men drank
deeply, from the king down. The novels of Fielding
and Smollett are full of the wildest debauchery and
drunken extravagance. Statesmen drank deep at their
councils, ladies drank in their boudoirs, the criminal on
his way to Tyburn stopped to drink a parting glass.
Hogarth in his wonderful pictures has held the mirror up
to society to show how general was the shame, how
terrible the curse.

In Germany the Baierisch bier, drunk out of hier-
gl'dschen ornamented as they are with engraved wreaths,
" Zuvi Andenken,'' " A^ls Firundschaft,'' and other little
bits of national harmless sentiment, has come down from
the remotest antiquity, and has never failed to provoke
quiet and decorous, if sleepy hilarity.

We are afraid that the " Dew of Ben Nevis " is not so
peaceful, nor the juice of the juniper, nor New England
rum, nor the aqiiadiente of the Mexican, nor the vodka
of the Russian. All these have the most terrible wild
madness in them. To the honour of civilization, it is
no longer the fashion to drink to excess. The vice of
drunkenness rarely meets the eye of a refined woman ;
and let us hope that less and less may it be the bane
of society, the disgrace of the art of entertaining.

THE SERVANT QUESTION.

Verily
I swear, 't is better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perked up in a glistering grief
And wear a golden sorrow.

Henry viii.

IT is impossible to do much with the art of entertaming
without servants, and where shall we get them? In
a country village, not two hundred miles from New York,
I have seen well-to-do citizens going to a little restaurant
in the main street for their dinners during an entire sum-
mer, because they could not get women to stay in their
houses as servants. They are willing to pay high wages,
they are generous livers, but such a thing as domestic
service is out of the question. If any lady comes from
the city bringing two or three maids, they are of far
more interest in the village than their mistress, and are
besieged, waited upon, intrigued with, to leave their
place, to come and serve the village lady.

What is the reason? The American farmer's daughter
will not go out to service, will not be called a servant,
will not work in another person's house as she will in her
own. The Irish maid prefers the town, and dislikes the
country, where there is no Catholic church. Such a
story repeated all over the land is the story of American
service.

THE SERVANT QUESTION. 20/

We have, however, every day, ships arriving in New
York harbour which pour out on our shores the poor of
all nations. The men seem to take readily enough to
any sort of work. Italians shove' snow and work on
railroads, but their wives and daughters make poor
domestic servants.

The best that we can get are the Irish who have been
long in the country. Then come the Germans, who
now outnumber the Irish. French, Swedes, Danes,
Norwegians, all come in shoals.

Of all these the French are by far the best. Of
course, as cooks they are unrivalled ; as butler, waiter,
footman, a well-trained French serving-man is the very
best. He is neat, economical, and respectful. He
knows his value and he is very expensive. But if you
can afford him, take him and keep him.

French maids are admirable as seamstresses, and in all
the best and highest walks of domestic service, but they
are difficult as to the other servants. They make trouble
about their food ; they do not tell the truth, as a rule.

A good Irish nurse is the best and most tender, the
most to be relied on. Children love Irish servants ; it is
the best recommendation we can give them. They are
not good cooks as a rule, and are wanting in head, man-
agement, and neatness ; but they are willing ; and a wise
mistress can make of them almost anything she desires.

The Germans surpass them very much in thrift and in
concentration, but the Germans are stolid, and very far
from being as gentle and willing as the Irish. If a
housekeeper gets a number of German servants in train-
ing and thinks them perfect, she need not be astonished
if some fine morning she rises and finds them gone off
to parts unknown.

208 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

The Swedes are more reliable up to a certain point ;
they are never stupid, they are rather fantastic, and very
eccentric. They are also full of poetry, and indulge in
sublime longings. The Swedish language is made up of
eloquence and poetry as soft as the Italian ; it has also
something of the flow and the magnificence of the
Spanish. It is freighted with picturesque and brilliant
metaphor, and is richer than ours in its expressions of
gentleness, politeness, and courtesy. They have a great
talent for arguing with gentleness and courtesy, and of
protesting with politeness, and they learn our language
with singular ease. I once had a Swedish maid who
argued me out of my desire to have the dining-room
swept, in better language than I could use myself. One
must, in hiring servants, take into account all these
national characteristics. The Swedes are full of talent,
they can do your work if they wish to, but ten chances
to one they do not wish to.

Gustavus i\dolphus and Charles XII. were two types
of Swedish character. The Swedes of to-day, like them,
are full of dignity and lofty aspiration ; they love brilliant
display ; they have audacious and adventurous spirits ;
one can imagine them marching to victory ; but all this
makes them, in this country, " too smart " to be ser-
vants.

They are excellent cooks. A Swedish woman formerly
came to my house to cook for dinner parties, and she
was equal to any French cJicf. Her price was five dol-
lars ; she would do all my marketing for me, and serv^e
the dinner most perfectly, — that is, render it up to the
men waiters. I rarely had any fault to find ; if I had, it
was I who was in the wrong. She came often to in-
struct my Irish cook ; but had I attempted any further

THE SERVANT QUESTION. 20^

intercourse, I felt that it would have been I who would
have had to leave the house, and not my excellent cook.
They have every qualification for service excepting this :
they will not obey, — they are captains.

The Norwegians are very different. We must again
remember that at home they are poor, frugal, religious,
and capable of all sacrifice ; they will work patiently
here for seven years in order to go back to Norway,
to that poetical land, whose beauty is so unspeakable.
These girls who come from the herds, who have spent
the summer on the plains in a small hut and alone,
making butter and cheese, are strong, patient, hand-
some, fresh creatures, with voices as sweet as lutes, and
most obedient and good, — their thoughts ever of father
and mother and home. Would there were more of them.
If they were a little less awkward in an American house
they would be perfect.

As for the men, they are the best farm-laborers in the
world. They have a high, noble, patient courage, a very
slow mind, and are fond of argument. The Norwegian is
the Scotchman of Scandinavia, as the Swede is the Irish-
man. There are no better adopted citizens than the
Norwegians, but they live here only to go back to Norway
when they have made enough. Deeply religious, they are
neither narrow nor ignoble. They would be perfect ser-
vants if well trained.

The Danes are not so simple ; they are a mercantile
people, and are desperately fond of bargaining. They
are also, however, most interesting. Their taste for art
is vastly more developed than that of either the Swedes
or the Norwegians. A Danish parlour-maid will arrange
the dj'ic-d-brac and stand and look at it. To go higher in
their home history, they are making great painters. As

14

210 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

servants they are hardly known enough amongst us to be
criticised ; those I have seen have been neat, faithful,
and far more obedient than their cleverer Swedish
sisters.

Could I have my choice for servants about a country
house they should be Norwegians, in a city house,
French.

In Chicago, the ladies speak highly of the German ser-
vants, if they do not happen to be Nihilists, which is a
dreadful possibility. At the South they still have the
negro, most excellent when good, most objectionable
when bad. Certainly freedom has not improved him as
to manners, and a coloured coachman in Washington
can be far more disagreeable than an Irishman, or a
French cabby during the Exposition, which is saying
a great deal.

The excellence, the superiority, the respectful manners
of English servants at home has induced many ladies to
bring over parlour maids, nurses, cooks, from England,
with, however, but small success. I need but copy the
following from the " London Queen," to show how different
is the way of speaking of a servant, and to a servant in
London from that which obtains in New York. It is
verbatim : —

" The servants should rise at six-thirty, and the cook a
little earlier ; she then lights the kitchen fire, opens the
house, sweeps the hall, cleans the steps, prepares upstairs
and downstairs breakfast. Meantime the house parlour-
maid does the dining-room, takes up hot water to bed-
rooms, lays the table, and so forth, while the housemaid
dusts the day nursery and takes up the children's break-
fast. Supposing the family breakfast is not wanted be-
fore eight- thirty, that meal should be taken, in both

THE SERVANT QUESTION. 211

kitchen and nursery, before eight o'clock. As soon as
this is over the cook must tidy her kitchen, look over
her stores, contents of pantry, etc., and be ready by nine-
thirty to take her orders for the day. She will answer
the kitchen bell at all times, and perhaps the front door
in the morning, and will be answerable besides for ordi-
nary kitchen work, for the hall, kitchen stairs, all the
basement, and according to arrangement possibly the
dining-room. She must have fixed days for doing the
above work, cleaning tins, etc. The cook also clears
away the breakfast. As soon as the housemaid has taken
up the family breakfast, she, the housemaid, must be-
gin the bedrooms, where the second scullery-maid may
help her as soon as she has done helping the cook.
The house parlour-maid will be responsible for the
drawing-room and sitting-room and all the bedrooms,
also stairs and landing, having regular days for cleaning
out one of each weekly, being helped by the second
scullery-maid. She should be dressed in time for lunch,
wait on it, and clear away. She will answer the front
door in the afternoon, take up five o'clock tea, lay the
table and wait at dinner. The scullery maid must clear
the kitchen meals and help in all the washing up, take
up nursery tea, help the cook prepare late dinner, carry
up the dishes for late dinner, clear and wash up kitchen
supper. The nurse has her dinner in the kitchen. Ser-
vants' meals should be breakfast, before the family, din-
ner directly after upstairs lunch, tea at five, supper at
nine. They should go to bed regularly at ten o'clock.
Now as to their fare. For breakfast a httle bacon or
an egg, or some smoked fish ; for dinner, meat, vegetables,
potatoes, and pudding. If a joint has been sent up for
lunchj it is usual for it to go down to the servants' table.

212 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

" Allow one pint and a half of beer to each servant
who asks for it, or one bottle. Tea, butter, and sugar
are given out to them. The weekly bills for the ser-
vants shall be about two dollars and a half."

The neatness of all this careful housekeeping would
be delightful if it could be carried out with us, or if the
servant would accept it. But imagine a New York mis-
tress achieving it ! The independent voter would revolt,
his wife would never accept it. English servants lose all
their good manners when they come over here, and do
not appear at all as they do in London.

American servants are always expected to eat what
goes down from the master's table, and there is no such
thing as making one servant wait upon another in our
free and independent country. There are households
in America where many servants are kept in order
by a very clever mistress, but it is rarely an order which
lasts for long. It is a vexed question, and the freedom
with which we take a servant, without knowing much of
her character, must explain a great deal of it. Foreign
servants find out soon their legal rights, and their im-
portance. Here where labour is scarce, it is not so easy
to get a good footman, parlour maid, or cook ; the great
variety and antipathy of race comes in. The Irishman
will not work on a railroad with the Italian, and we all
know the history of the " Heathen Chinee." That is
repeated in every household.

Mr. Winans, in Scotland, hires a place which reaches
from the North Sea to the Atlantic ; he spends two hun-
dred thousand dollars a year on it. He has perhaps
three hundred serv^ants, every one of them perfect.
Imagine his having such a place here ! How many
good servants could he find ; how long would they stay ?

THE SERVANT QUESTION. 213

How long does a French chef^ at ten thousand dollars a
year, stay? Only one year. He prefers to return to
France.

Indeed, French servants, poorly paid and very poorly
fed at home, are the hardest to keep in this country ; they
all wish to go back. It is a curious fact that they grow
impertinent and do not seem to enjoy the life. They go
back to Europe, and resume their good manners as if
nothing had happened. It must be in the air.

It is, however, possible for a lady to get good servants
and to keep them for a while, if she has great executive
ability and a natural leadership ; but the whole question is
one which has not yet been at all mastered.

There is no " hook and eye " between the ship loaded
down with those who want work and those who want
work done. The great lack of respect in the manners of
servants in hotels is especially noticeable to one return-
ing from Europe. A woman, a sort of care-taker on a
third- story floor, will sing while a lady is talking to her,
not because she wishes to sing at all, but to establish her
independence. In Europe she would say, " Yes, my
Lady," or " No, my Lady " when spoken to.

It is to be feared that the Declaration of Indepen-
dence is between us and good service. We must be con-
tent if we find one or two amiable Irish, or old negroes,
who will sei-ve us because of the love they bear us, and
for our children's sake, whom they love as if they were
their very own.

This is, however, but taking the seamy side, and the
humbler side. Many opulent people in America em-
ploy thirty servants, and their house goes on with much
of European elegance. It is not unusual in a fine New
York house to find a butler and four men in the dining-

214 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

room ; a chef and his assistants in the kitchen ; a head
groom and his' men in the stables; a coachman, who is
a very important functionary ; and three women in the
nursery besides the nursery governess, who acts as the
amanuensis of the lady; the lady's maid, whose sole
duty is to wait on her lady, and perhaps her young lady ;
a parlour maid or two ; and two chambermaids, a laun-
dress and her assistants.

Of course the men in such a vast establishment do not
sleep in the house, perhaps with one or two exceptions ;
the valet and the head footman may be kept at home,
as they may be needed in the night, for errands, etc.
But our American houses are not built to accommodate so
many. One lady, the head of such an establishment,
said that she had " never seen her laundress." A different
staircase led to the servants' room ; her maid did all the
interviewing with this important personage.

If a lady can find a competent housekeeper to direct
this large household, it is all very well, but that is yet
almost impossible, and the life of a fashionable woman
in New York, who is the head of such a house, is apt to
be slavery. The housekeeper and the butler are seldom
friends, therefore the hostess has to reconcile these two
conflicting powers before she can give a dinner; the
head footman walks off disgusted and leaves a vacant
place, etc.

The households of men of foreign birth, who under-
stand dealing with different nationalities, are apt to get
on very well with thirty servants ; doubtless such men
import their own servants.

In a household where one man alone is kept, he is
expected to open the front door and to do all the work
of the dining-room, and must have an assistant in the

The servant question. 21^

pantry. The cook, if a woman, generally demands and
needs one ; if a man, he demands two, for a f/afwiW not
do any of the menial work of cookery. He is a pam-
pered official.

In England, the housekeeper engages the servants and
supervises them. She has charge of the stores and the
house Hnen, and in general is responsible for the eco-
nomical and exact management of all household details,
and for the comfort of guests and the family. She is
expected to see that her employers are not cheated, and
this in our country makes her unpopular. A bad house-
keeper is worse than none, as of course her powers of
stealing are endless.

The butler is responsible for the silver and wine. He
must be absolute over the footman. It is he who
directs the carving and passing of dishes, and then
stands behind the chair of his mistress. All the men-
servants must be clean shaven ; none are permitted to
wear a mustache, that being the privilege of the
gentlemen.

A lady's maid is not expected to do her own washing,
or make her own bed in Europe ; but in this country,
being required to do all that, and to eat with the other
servants, she is apt to complain. A French maid always
complains of the table. She must dress hair, understand
dress-making, and clear starching, be a good packer,
and always at hand to dress her lady and to sit up for
her when she returns from parties. Her wages are very
high and she is apt to become a tyrant.

It is very difficult to define for an American house-
hold the duties of servants, which are so well defined
in England and on the continent. Every lady has her
own individual ideas on this subject, and servants have

2l6 THE ART OF ENTERTAtNINCi.

f/tei'r individual ideas, which they do not have in Europe
I heard an opulent gentleman who kept four men-ser-
vants in his house, and three in his stable, complain
one snowy winter that he had not one who would
shovel snow from his steps, each objecting that it was
not his business ; so he wrote a note to a friendly black
man, who came around, and rendered it possible for the
master of the house to go down to business. This was
an extreme case, but it illustrates one of the phases of
our curious civilization.

The butler is the important person, and it will be well
for the lady to hold him responsible ; he should see to it
that the footmen are neat and clean. Most servants in
American houses wear black dress-coats, and white
cravats, but some of our very rich men have now all
their flunkies in livery, a sort of cut-away dress-coat,
a waistcoat of another colour, small clothes, long stock-
ings, and low shoes. Powdered footmen have not yet
appeared.

If we were in England we should say that the head
footman is to attend the door, and in houses where much
visiting goes on he could hardly do anything more.
Ladies, however, simplify this process by keeping a '' but-
tons," a small boy, who has, as Dickens says, " broken
out in an eruption of buttons " on his jacket, who sits
the livelong day the slave of the bell.

The second man seems to do all the work, such as
scrubbing silver, sweeping, arranging the fireplaces, and
washing dishes ; and what the third man does, except
to black boots, I have never been able to discover. I
think he serves as valet to the gentlemen and the
growing boys, runs with notes, and is " Jeames Yellow-
plush " generally. I was once taken over her vast

THE SERVANT QUESTION. 217

establishment by an English countess, who was most
kind in explaining to me her domestic arrangements;
but I did not think she knew herself what that third
man did. I noticed that there were always several foot-
men waiting at dinner.

" They also serve who only stand and wait."

One thing I do remember in the housekeeper's room.
There sat a very grand dame carving, and giving the
servants their dinner. She rose and stood while my lady
spoke to her, but at a wave of the hand from the
countess all the others remained seated. The butler was
at the other end of the table looking very sheepish. The
dinner was a boiled leg of mutton, and some sort of
meat pie, and a huge Yorkshire pudding, — no vegetables
but potatoes ; pitchers of ale, and bread and cheese,
finished this meal. The third footman, I remember,
brought in afternoon tea; perhaps he filled that place
which is described in one of Miss Mulock's novels : —

" Dolly was hired as an off maid, to do everything which
the other servants would not do."

The etiquette of the stable servants was also explained
to me in England. The coachman is as powerful a per-
son in the equine realm as is the butler in the house.
The head groom and his assistants always raise their
finger to their hats when spoken to by master, or mis-
tress, or the younger members of the family, or visitors,
and in the case of royalty all stand with hats off, the
coachman on the box slightly raising his, until the Prince
of Wales, or his peers, are seated.

In some houses I was told that the upper servants had
their meals prepared by a kitchen maid, and that they
had a different table from the scullery maids.

2l8 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

The nursery governess was a person to be pitied ; she
was an educated girl, still the servant of the head nurse.
She passed her entire hfe with the children, yet ate by
herself, unless perhaps with the very young children.
The head governess ate luncheon with the family, and
came in to the parlour with the young ladies in the even-
ing. Generally this personage was expected to sing and
play for the amusement of the company. Now, imagine
a set of servants thus trained, brought to America. The
men soon learn that their vote is as good as the master's,
and if they are Irishmen it is a great deal better. They
soon cease to be respectful. This is the first break in
the chain. A man, a Senator, was asked out to dinner
in Albany ; the lady of the house said, '' I have a great
respect for Senator ; he used to wait on this table."

That is a glorious thing for the flag, for the United
States, but there is a missing Hnk in the golden chain of
household order. It is a difficult task to produce here
the harmony of an English household. Our service at
home is like our diplomatic service ; we have no trained
diplomats, no gradation of service, but in the case of
our foreign ministers, they have risen to be the best in
the world. We have plenty of talent at top ; it is the
root of the tree which puzzles us.

We may make up our minds that no longer will the
American girl go out to service. It is a thousand pities
that she will not. It is not ignoble to do household
work well. The chatelaines of the Middle Ages cooked
and served the meals with their own fair hands. Train-
ing-schools are greatly needed; we should follow the
nurses' training-school.

Our dinner-tables in America are generally long and
narrow, fitted to the shape of the dining-room. Once I

THE SERVANT QUESTION. 219

saw in England, in a great house, a table so narrow that
one could almost have shaken hands with one's opposite
neighbour. The ornaments were high, slender vases
filled with grasses and orchids, far above our heads. One
or two matchless ornaments of Dresden, the gifts of
monarchs, alone ornamented the table. This was a very
sociable dinner-table and rather pleasing. Then came
the round table, so vast that the footmen must have
mounted up on it to place the centre piece, like poor
distraught Lady Caroline Lamb, whose husband came in
to find her walking up and down the table, telhng the
butler to " produce pyramidal effects." There is also the
fine broad parallelogram, suited to a baronial hall ; and
this is copied in our best country houses. As no con-
versation of a confidential character is ever allowed at
an English table until all the servants have left the room,
so it is not considered good-breeding to allow a seiTant
to talk to the mistress or the young ladies of what she
hears in the servants' hall. The gossip of couriers and
maids at a foreign watering-place reaches American ears,
and unluckily gets into American newspapers sometimes.
It is a wise precaution on the part of the English never to
listen to this. As we have conquered everything else in
America, perhaps we shall conquer the servant question,
to the advantage of both parties. We should try to
keep our servants a longer time with us.

There are some houses where the law of change goes
on forever, and there are some where the domestic
machine runs without friction. The hostess may be a
person with a talent for governing, and may be inspired
with a sixth sense. If she is she can make her composite
family respectful, helpful, and happy ; but it must be con-
fessed that it is as yet a vexed question, one which gives

220 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

US trouble and will give us more. Those people are the
happiest who can get on with three or four servants,
and very many families live well and elegantly with this
number, while more live well with two.

To mark the difference in feeling as between those
who employ and those who serve, one little anecdote
may apply. At a watering-place in Europe I once met
an English family, of the middle class. The lady said
to her maid, ^' Bromley, your master wishes you to be in
at nine o'clock this evening."

Bromley said, " Yes, my lady."

An American lady stood near with her maid, who
flushed deeply.

"What is the matter, Jane?" asked her lady.

"I never could stand having any one called my
master," said the American.

This intimate nerve of self-love, this egotism, this
false idea of independence affects women more than
men, and in a country where both can go from the hum-
blest position to the highest, it produces a ''ghstering
grief." The difficulty of getting good servants prevents
many families from keeping house. It brings on us the
foreign reproach that we live in hotels and boarding-
houses. It is at this moment the great unsolved Ameri-
can Question. What shall we do with it?

SOMETHING ABOUT COOKS.

" Last night I weighed, quite wearied out,
The question that perplexes still ;
And that sad spirit we call doubt
Made the good naught beside the ill.

'• This morning, when with rested mind,
I try again the selfsame theme,
The whole is altered, and I find
The balance turned, the good supreme."

WHAT amateur cook has not had these moments
of depression and exaltation as she has weighed
the flour and sugar, stoned the raisins, and mixed the
cake, or, even worse in her young novitiate, has at-
tempted to make a soup and has begun with the formula
which so often turns out badly : —

" Take a shin of beef and put it in a pot with three
dozen carrots, a dozen onions, two dozen pieces of
celery, twelve turnips, a fowl, and two partridges. It
must simmer six hours, etc." Yes, and last week and
the week before her husband said, " it was miser-
able." How willingly would she allow the claim of that
glorious old coxcomb, Louis Eustache Ude, who had been
cook to two French kings and never forgave the world
for not permitting him to call himself an artist.

"Scrapers of catgut," he says, "call themselves ar-
tists, and fellows who jump like a kangaroo claim the
title ; yet the man who has under his sole direction thf

222 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

great feasts given by the nobility of England to the
allied sovereigns, and who superintended the grand ban-
quet at Crockford's on the occasion of the coronation of
Victoria, was denied the title prodigally showered on
singers, dancers, and comedians, whose only quality,
not requiring the microscope to discern, is vanity."

Ude was the most eccentric of cooks. He was maitre
(rjioiel to the Duke of York, who dehghted in his anec-
dotes and mimicry. In his book, which he claims is the
only work which gives due dignity to the great art, he
says : '' The chief fault in all great peoples' cooks is
that they are too profuse in their preparations. Suppers
are after all only ridiculous proofs of the extravagance
and bad taste of the givers." He mentions great wastes
which have seared his already seared conscience thus :

" I have known balls where the next day, in spite of
the pillage of a pack of footmen, which was enormous, I
have seen thirty hams, one hundred and fifty to two
hundred carved fowls, and forty or fifty tongues given
away. Jellies melt on all the tables ; pastries, patties,
aspics, and lobster salads are heaped up in the kitchen
and strewed about in the passages ; and all this an utter
waste, for not even the footmen would eat this ; they do
not consider it a legitimate repast to dine off the rem-
nants of a last night's feast. Footmen are like cats ; they
only like what they steal, but are indifferent to what is
given them."

This was written by the cook of the bankrupt Duke of
York, noted for his extravagance ; but how well it would
apply to-day to the banquet of many a nonveau riche, to
how many a hotel, to bow much of our American house-
keeping. Ude was a poet and an enthusiast. Colonel
Damer met him walking up and down at Crockford's in ^

SOMETHING ABOUT COOKS. 2^3

great rage, and asked what was the matter. " Matter !
Ma foi! " answered he ; " you saw that man just gone
out ? Well he ordered red mullet for his dinner. I made
him a delicious little sauce with my own hand. The
mullet was marked on the carte two shillings. I added
sixpence for the sauce. He refuses to pay sixpence for
the sauce. The imbecile ! He seems to think red mul-
lets come out of the sea with my sauce in their pockets."

Careme, one of the greatest of French cooks, became
eminent by inventing a sauce for fast-days. He then
devoted several years to the science of roasting in all
its branches. He studied design and elegance under
Robert Laine. His career was one of victory after vic-
tory. He nurtured the Emperor Alexander, kept alive
Talleyrand through "that long disease, his life," fostered
Lord Londonderry, and delighted the Princess Belgra-
tine. A salary of a thousand pounds a year induced
him to become chef to the Regent ; but he left Carlton
House, he would return to France. The Regent was
inconsolable, but Careme was implacable. " No," said
the true patriot, " my soul is French, and I can only
exist in France." Careme, therefore, overcome by his
feelings, accepted an unprecedented salary from Baron
Rothschild and settled in Paris.

Lady Morgan, dining at the Baron's villa in 1830, has
left us a sketch of a dinner by Careme which is so well
done that, although I have already alluded to it, I will
copy verbatim : '' It was a very sultry evening, but the
Baron's dining-room stood apart from the house and
was shaded by orange trees. In the oblong pavilion of
Grecian marble refreshed by fountains, no gold or silver
heated or dazzled the eye, but porcelain beyond the
price of all precious metals. There was no high-spiced

224 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

sauce in the dinner, no dark-brown gravy, no flavour of
cayenne and allspice, no tincture of catsup and walnut
pickle, no visible agency of those vulgar elements of
cooking of the good old times, fire and water. Dis-
tillations of the most delicate viands had been ex-
tracted in silver, with chemical precision. Every meat
presented its own aroma," — it was not cooked in a
gas stove, — '* every vegetable its own shade of verdure.
The mayonnaise was fixed in ice, like Ninon's description
of Sevign^'s heart, * ime cifro7iille frite a la neige.'
The tempered chill of the ploDibiere which held the
place of the eternal fondus and soiifflets of our English
tables, anticipated and broke the stronger shock of the
exquisite avalanche, which, with the hue and odour of
fresh-gathered nectarines, satisfied every sense and dis-
sipated every coarser flavour. With less genius than
went to the composition of that dinner, men have
written epic poems."

Comparing Careme with the great BeauvilHers, the
greatest restaurant cook in Paris from 1782 to 1815, a
great authority in the matter says : '' There was more
aplomb in the touch of BeauvilHers, more curious felicity
in Careme's. BeauvilHers was great in an ent7'ee, Ca-
reme sublime in an ejitremet ; we should put BeauvilHers
against the world for a roti, but should wish Careme to
prepare the sauce were we under the necessity of eating
an elephant or our great grandfather."

Vatel was the great Condi's cook who kiHed himself
because the turbot did not arrive. Madame de Sevigne
relates the event with her usual clearness. Louis XIV.
had long promised a visit to the great Conde at Chantilly,
the very estate which the Due d'Aumale has so re-
cently given back to France, but postponed it from

SOMETHING ABOUT COOKS. 225

time to time fearing to cause Conde trouble by the
sudden influx of a gay and numerous retinue. The old
chateau had become a trifle dull and a trifle mouldy, but
it got itself brushed up. Vatel was cook, and his first
mortification was that the roast was wanting at several
tables. It seemed to him that his great master the cap-
tain would be dishonoured, but the king had brought a
larger retinue than he had promised. " He had thought
of nothing but to make this visit a great success." Gour-
ville, one of the prince's household, finding Vatel so ex-
cited, asked the prince to reassure him, which he did
very kindly, telling him that the king was delighted with
his supper. But Vatel mournfully answered : " Mon-
seigneur, your kindness overpowers me, but the roast
was wanting at two tables." The next morning he arose
at five to superintend the king's dinner. The purveyor
of fish was at the door with only two baskets. " And
is this all?" asked Vatel. "Yes," said the sleepy man.
Vatel waited at the gates an hour ; no more fish. Two
or three hundred guests, and only two packages. He
whispered to himself, "The joke in Paris will be that
Vatel tried to save the prince the price of two red mullets
a month." His hand fell on his rapier hilt, he rushed
up-stairs, fell on the blade ; as he expired the cart loaded
with turbot came into the yard. Voila !

Times have changed. Cooks now prefer living on
their masters to dying for them.

The Prince de Loubise, inventor of a sauce the dis-
covery of which has made him more glorious than
twenty victories, asked his cook to draw him up a bill of
fare, a sort of rough estimate for a supper. Bertrand's
first estimate was fifty hams. " What, Bertrand ! Are
you going to feast the whole army of the Rhine ? Your

15

226 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

brains are surely turning." Bertrand was blandly con-
temptuous. " My brains are surely turning? No, Mon-
seigneur, only one ham will appear on the table, but the
rest are indispensable for my espagnoks, my garnishing."

"Bertrand, you are plundering me," stormed the
prince. "This article shall not pass." The blood of
the cook was up. " My lord," said he, sternly, " you do
not understand the resources of our art. Give the word
and I will so melt down these hams that they will go
into a little glass bottle no bigger than my thumb." The
prince was abashed by the genius of the spit, and the
fifty hams were purchased.

The Duke of Wellington liked a good dinner, and em-
ployed an artist named Felix. Lord Seaforth, finding
Felix too expensive, allowed him to go to the Iron Duke,
but Felix came back with tears in his eyes.

"What is the matter," said Lord Seaforth; " has the
Duke turned rusty? "

" No, no, my lord ! but I serve him a dinner which
would make Francatelli or Ude die of envy, and he say
nothing. I go to the country and leave him to try a
dinner cooked by a stupid, dirty cook-maid, and he say
nothing; that is what hurt my feelings."

Felix lived on approbation ; he would have been capa-
ble of dying like Vatel.

Going last winter to see le Bourgeoise Gentilhoinme at
the Comedie Frangaise, I was struck with the novelty
of the dinner served by this hero of Moliere's who is
so anxious to get rid of his money. All the dishes
were brought in by little fellows dressed as cooks,
who danced to the minuet.

In a later faithful chronicle I learn that a certain
marquis of the days of Louis XVI. invented a musical

SOMETHING ABOUT COOKS. 22/

spit which caused all the snowy-garbed cooks to move
in rhythmical steps. All was melody and order. '^ The
fish simmered in six-eight time, the ponderous roasts
circled gravely, the stews blended their essences to
solemn anthems. The ears were gratified as the nose
was regaled ; this was an idea worthy of Apecius."

So Moliere, true to the spirit of his time, paid this
compliment to the Marquis.

Bechamel was cook to Louis XIV., and invented a
famous sauce.

Durand, who was cook to the great Napoleon, has left
a curious record of his tempestuous eating. Francatelli
succeeded Ude in England, was the chef at Chester-
field House, at Lord Kinnaird's, and at the Melton Club.
He held the post of maitre d'hotel for a while but was
dismissed by a cabal.

The gay writer from whose pages we have gathered
these desultory facts winds up with an advice to all who
keep French cooks. " Make your chef your friend.
Take care of him. Watch over the health of this man
of genius. Send for the physician when he is ill."

Imagine the descent from these poets to the good
plain cook, — you can depend upon the truth of this
description, — with a six weeks' reference from her last
place. Imagine the greasy soups, the mutton cutlets
hard as a board, the few hard green peas, the soggy po-
tatoes. How awful the recollections of one who came in
"a week on trial !" Whose trial? Those who had to
eat her food. It is bad to be without a cook, but ten
times worse to have a bad one.

But if Louis Eustache Ude, the cook par excellence
of all this little study, lamented over the waste in great
kitchens, how much more should he revolt at that whole-

22S THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

sale destruction of food which might go to feed the
hungry, nourish and sustain the sick, and perhaps save
many a child's life. What should be done with the
broken meats of a great household? The cook is too
apt to toss all into a tub or basket, to swell her own
iniquitous profits. The half-tongues, ends of ham, roast
beef, chicken-legs, the real honest relics of a generous
kitchen would feed four or five poor families a week.
What gifts of mercy to hospitals would be the half
of a form of jelly, the pudding, the blanc mange, which
are thrown away by the careless !

In France the Little Sisters of the Poor go about with
clean dishes and clean baskets, to collect these morsels
which fall from the rich man's table. It is a worthy
custom.

While studying the names of these great men like
Ude and Careme, Vatel and Francatelli, what shades of
dead pdtissiers^ spirits of extinct confiseurs, rise around
us in savoury streams and revive for us the past of gas-
tronomic pleasure ! Many a Frenchman will tell you of
the iced meringues of the Palais Royal and the salades de
fraises aii marasquin of the Grand Seize as if they were
things of the past. The French, gayer and lighter
handed at the moulding of pastry, are apt to exceed all
nations in this delicate, delicious entretnet. The vol au
vent de volaille, or chicken pie, with its delicate filling
of chicken, mushroom, truffles, and its enveloping pastry,
is never better than at the Grand Hotel at Aix les Bains,
where one finds the perfection of good eating. "Aix
les Bains," says a resident physician, " lies half-way be-
tween Paris and Rome, with its famous curative baths to
correct the good dinners of the one, and the good wines
of the other." Aix adds a temptation of its own.

SOMETHING ABOUT COOKS. 229

The French have ever been fond of the playthings of the
kit':hen, — the tarts, custards, the frothy nothings which
are fashioned out of the evanescent union of whipped
cream and spun sugar. Their poHteness, their brag,
their accomphshments, their love of the external, all lead
to such dainties. It was observed even so long ago as
1 8 1 5 , when the allies were in Paris, that the fifteen thou-
sand pates which Madame Felix sold daily in the Passage
des Panoramas were beginning to affect the foreign bay-
onets ; and no doubt the German invasion may have been
checked by the same dulcet influence.

There is romance and history even about pastry. The
baba, a species of savoury biscuit coloured with saffron,
was introduced into France by Stanislaus, the first king
of Poland, when that unlucky country was alternately the
scourge and the victim of Russia. The dish was perhaps
oriental in origin. It is made with brioche paste, mixed
with madeira, currants, raisins, and potted cream.

French jellies are rather monotonous as to flavour,
but they look very handsome on a supper-table. A
macedoine is a delicious variety of dainty, and worthy of
the French nation. It is wine jelly frozen in a mould
with grapes, strawberries, green-gages, cherries, apricots,
or pineapple, or more economically with slices of pears
and apples boiled in syrup coloured' with carmine, saffron,
or cochineal, the flavour aided by angelica or brandied
cherries. An invention of Ude and one which we could
copy here is jelly au miroton de peche : —

Get half a dozen peaches, peel them carefully and boil
them, with their kernels, a short time in a fine syrup, squeeze
six lemons into it, and pass it through a bag. Add some
clarified isinglass and put some of it into a mould in ice ;
then fill up with the jelly and peaches alternately and
freeze it.

230 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Fruit cheeses are very pleasant, rich conserves tor
dessert. They can be made with apricots, strawbernes,
pineapple, peaches, or gooseberries. The fruit is pow-
dered with sugar and rubbed through a colander ; then
melted isinglass and thick cream is added, whipped over
ice and put into the mould.

The French prepare the most ornamental ices, both
water and cream, but they do not equal in richness or
flavour those made in New York.

Pancakes and fritters, although English dishes, are
very popular in France and very good. Apple fritters
with sherry wine and sugar are very comforting things.
The French name is beigiiet de potfi7?ie. Thackeray
immortalizes them thus : —

" Mid fritters and lollypops though we may roam,
On the whole there is nothing like beignet de pomnie.
Of flour half a pound with a glass of milk share,
A half-pound of butter the mixture will bear.
Pontine! Pommel Beignet de poinme!
Of beignets there 's none like the beignet de pomme!

" A beigiiet de pomme you may work at in vain
If you stir not the mixture again and again.
Some beer just to thin it may into it fall,
Stir up that with three whites of eggs added to all.
Pomme ! Pomme ! Beignet de pomme !
Of beignets there 's nothing like beignet de pomme !

" Six apples when peeled you must carefully slice,
And cut out the cores if you '11 take my advice ;
Then dip them in butter and fry till they foam,
And you '11 have in six minutes your beignet de pomme.
Pomme ! Pomme ! Beignet de pomme !
Oi beignets there 's nothing like beignet de pomme !

In the Almanack de Gourma?ids there appeared a
philosophical treatise on pastry and pastry cooks, prob-

SOMETHING ABOUT COOKS. 23 1

abiy by the learned Giedeaud de la Reyniere himself.
PaSry, he says, is to cooking what rhetorical metaphors
are to oratory, — life and ornament. A speech with-
out -netaphors, a dinner without pastry, are alike in-
sipid, but, in like manner, as few people are eloquent,
so few can make perfect pastry. Good pastry-cooks are
as rare as good orators.

This writer recommends the art of the rolling-pin to
beautiful women as being at once an occupation, a pleas-
ure, and a sure way of recovering embonpoint and fresh-
ness. He says : " This is an art which will chase ennui
from the saddest. It offers varied amusement and sweet
and salutary exercise for the whole body; it restores
appetite, strength, and gayety; it gathers around us
friends ; it tends to advance an art known from the most
remote antiquity. Woman ! lovely and charming woman,
leave the sofas where ennui and hypochondria prey upon
the springtime of your life, unite in the varied moulds
sugar, jasmine, and roses, and form those delicacies that
will be more precious than gold when made by hands
so dear to us." What woman could refuse to make a
pudding and any number of pies after that?

There seems to be nothing left to eat after all this
perilous sweet stuff but a devilled biscuit at ten o'clock.

" ' A well devilled biscuit ! ' said Jenkins, enchanted,
' I '11 have after dinner, — the thought is divine ! '
The biscuit was brought and he now only wanted,
To fully enjoy it, a glass of good wine.
He flew to the pepper and sat down before it,
And at peppering the well-buttered biscuit he went;
Then some cheese in a paste mixed with mustard spread o'er it,
And down to the kitchen the devil was sent.

" * Oh, how ! ' said the cook, ' can I thus think of grilling .?
When common the pepper, the whole will be flat ;

232 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING. /

But here 's the cayenne, if my master be willing /

I '11 make if he pleases a devil with that.'

So the footman ran up with the cook's observation

To Jenkins, who gave him a terrible look ;

* Oh, go to the devil ! ' — forgetting his station —

Was the answer that Jenkins sent down to the cook."

A slice of pate de foie gras, olives stuffed with anchovy,
broiled bones, anchovy on toast, Welsh rarebit, devilled
biscuit, devilled turkey-legs, devilled kidneys, caviare,
devilled crabs, soft-shell crabs, shrimp salad, sardines on
toast, broiled sausages, etc., are amongst the many appe-
tizers which gourmets seek at ten or twelve o'clock, to
take the taste of the sweets out of their mouths, and to
prepare the pampered palate perhaps for punch, whiskey,
or brandy and soda.

THE FURNISHING OF A COUNTRY HOUSE.

THE hostess should, in furnishing her house, provide
a number of bath-tubs. The tin ones, shaped
Hke a hat, are very convenient, as are also india-rubber
portable baths. If there is not a bath-room belonging to
every room, this will enable an Englishman to take his
tub as cold as he pleases, or allow the American to take
the warmer sponge bath which Americans generally
prefer.

The house should also be well supplied with lunch-
baskets for picnics and for the railway journey. These can
be had for a small sum, and are well fitted up with drinking-
cups, knives, forks, spoons, corkscrews, sandwich-boxes,
etc. These and a great supply of unbreakable cups for
the lawn-tennis ground are very useful.

There should be also any number of painted tin pails,
and small pitchers to carry hot water ; several services of
plain tea things, and Japanese waiters, on which to send
tea to the bedrooms ; and in every room should be placed
a table, thoroughly furnished with writing-materials, and
with all the conveniences for writing and sealing a letter.

Shakspeare's bequest to his wife of his second-best
bed has passed as a bit of post-mortem ungallantry,
which has dimmed his fame as a model husband ; but
to-day that second-best bed would be a very hand-
some bequest, not only because it was Shakspeare's, but

234 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

because it was doubtless a " tester," for which there 15 a
craze. All the old four-posters, which our grandmothers
sent to the garret, are on their way back again to the
model bedroom. With all our rage for ventilation and
fresh air, we no longer fear the bed curtains which a few
years ago were supposed to foster disease and death;
because the model bedroom can now be furnished with
a ventilator for admitting the fresh, and one permitting
the egress of the foul air. Each gas bracket is provided
with a pipe placed above it, which pierces the wall and
through which the product of combustion is carried out
of the house. This is a late sanitary improvement in
London, and is being introduced in New York.

As for the bed curtains, they are hung on rods with
brass rings, no canopy on top, so that the curtains can
be shaken and dusted freely. This is a great improve-
ment on the old upholstered top, which recalls Dickens's
description of Mrs. Todger's boarding-house, where at
the top of the stairs " the odour of many generations of
dinners had gathered and had never been dispelled."
In like manner the unpleasant feeling that perhaps whole
generations of sleepers had breathed into the same up-
holstery overhead, used to haunt the wakeful, in old
EngUsh inns, to the murdering of sleep.

There is a growing admiration, unfortunately, for tufted
bedsteads. They are in the long run neither clean nor
wholesome, and not easily kept free from vermin ; but
they are undeniably handsome, and recall the imperial
beds of state apartments, where kings and queens are
supposed to seek that repose which comes so unwillingly
to them, but so readily to the plough-boy. These up-
holstered, tufted, satin-covered bedsteads should be fitted
with a canopy, and from this should hang a baldachin

THE FURNISHING OF A COUNTRY HOUSE. 235

and side curtains. Certain very beautiful specimens of
this regal arrangement, bought in Italy, are in the Van-
derbilt palaces in New York. Opulent purchasers can
get copies at the great furnishing-houses, but it is be-
coming difficult to get the real antiques. Travellers in
Brittany find the most wonderful carved bedsteads built
into the wall, and are always buying, them of the aston-
ished fisher-folk, who have no idea how valuable is
their smoke-stained, carved oak.

But as to the making up of the bed. There are now-
adays cleanly springs and hair mattresses, in place of the
old feather-beds ; and as to stiff white bedcovers, pillow-
slips and shams, false sheets and valenciennes trimmings,
monogrammed and ruffled fineries, there is a truce.
They were so slippery, so troublesome, and so false
withal, that the beds that have known them shall know
them no more forever. They had always to be unpinned
and unhooked before the sleeper could enter his bed ;
and they were the torment of the housemaid. They en-
tailed a degree of washing and ironing which was end-
less, and yet many a young housekeeper thought them
indispensable. That idea has gone out completely.
The bed now is made up with its fresh linen sheets, its
clean blankets and its Marseilles quilt, with square or
long pillow as the sleeper fancies, with bolster in plain
linen sheath. Then over the whole is thrown a light
lace cover lined with Liberty silk. This may be as ex-
pensive or as cheap as the owner pleases. Or the
spreads may be of satin covered with Chinese embroidery,
Turkish Smyrniote, or other rare things, or of the patch-
work or decorative art designs now so fashionable.
One light and easily aired drapery succeeds the four or
five pieces of unmanageable linen. If the bed is a

2^6 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

tester and the curtains of silk or chintz, the bed-covering
should match in tint. In a very pretty bedroom the
walls should be covered with chintz or silk.

The modern highly glazed tile paper for walls and
ceiling is an admirable covering, as it refuses to harbour
dirt, and the housemaid's brush can keep it sweet and
clean. Wall papers are so pretty and so exquisite in de-
sign that it seems hardly necessary to do more than men-
tion them. Let us hope the exasperating old rectangular
patterns, which have confused so many weary brains and
haunted so many a feverish pillow, are gone forever.

The floors should be of plain painted wood, varnished,
than which nothing can be cleaner ; or perhaps of polished
or oiled wood of the natural colour, with parquetried
borders. If this is impossible cover with dark-stained
mattings, which are as clean and healthful as possible.
These may remain down all winter, and rugs may be laid
over them at the fireplace and near the bed, sofa, etc.
Readily lifted and shaken, rugs have all the comfort of
carpets, and none of their disadvantages.

Much is said of the unhealthfulness of gas in bed-
rooms, but if it does not escape, it is not unhealthful.
The prettiest illumination is by candles in the charming
new candlesticks in tin and brass, which are as nice
as Roman lamps.

On the old bedsteads of Cromwell's time we find a
shelf running across the head of the bed, just above the
sleeper's head, — placed there for the posset cup. This is
now utilized for a safety lamp, for those who indulge in
the pernicious practice of reading in bed ; but it is even
better used as a receptacle for the book, the letter-case,
the many little things which an invalid may need, and it
saves calling a nurse.

THE FURNISHING OF A COUNTRY HOUSE. 237

All paint used in a model bedroom should be free
from poison. The fireplace should be tiled, and the
windows made with a deep beading on the sill. This is
a piece of wood like the rest of the frame, which comes
up two or three inches in front of the lower part of the
window. The object of this is to admit of the lower
sash being raised without causing a draught. The room
is thus ventilated by the air which filters through the
slight aperture between the upper and lower sashes.
Above all things have an open fireplace in the bedroom.
Abolish stoves from that sacred precinct. Use wood for
fuel if possible ; if not, the softest of cannel-coal.

Have brass rods placed, on which to hang portieres in
winter. Portieres and curtains may be cheaply made of
ingrain carpet embroidered ; or of Turkish or Indian
stuffs ; splendid Delhi pulgaries, a mass of gold silk em-
broidered, with bits of looking-glass worked in ; of velvet ;
camel's-hair shawls ; satin, chintz, or cretonne. Costly
thy portieres as thy purse can buy ; nothing is so pretty
and so ornamental.

Glazed chintzes may be hung at the windows, without
lining, as the light shines through the flowers, making a
good effect. Chenille curtains of soft rich colours are
appropriate for the modern bedroom. Madras muslin
curtains will do for the windows, but are not heavy
enough for portieres.

There are hangings made of willow bamboo, which
can be looped back, or left hanging, which give a win-
dow a furnished look, without intercepting the light.
Low wooden tables painted red, tables for writing mate-
rials, brackets on the walls for vases, candlesticks, and
photograph screens, a long couch with many pillows, a
Shaker rocking-chair, a row of hanging book-shelves, —

238 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

these, with bed and curtains in fresh tints, make a pretty
room in a country house.

If possible, people who entertain much should have a
suite of bedrooms for guests, so that no one need be
turned out of one's room to make way for a guest.

Brass beds are to be recommended as cleanly, hand-
some, and durable. Many ladies have, however, found
fault with them because they show the under mattress,
where the clothes are tucked in over the upper one.
This can be remedied by making a valance which is
finished with a ruffle at the top, which can be fluted, the
whole tied on by tapes. Two or three of these in white
will be all that a housekeeper needs, and if made of
pretty coloured merino to match the room, they will last
clean a long time.

Every bedroom should have, if possible, a dressing-
room, where the wash-stand, wardrobe, bath-tub, box for
boots and shoes, box for soiled clothes, and toilet-table,
perhaps, can be kept. In the new sanitary houses in
London, the water cistern is placed in view behind glass
in these rooms, so that if anything is the matter with the
water supply, it can be remedied immediately. How-
ever, in old fashioned houses, where dressing-rooms
cannot be evoked, screens can be so placed as to con-
ceal the unornamental objects.

A toilet-table should be ornamental and not hidden,
with its curtains, pockets, looking-glasses, little bows,
shelves for bottles, devices for secret drawers for love
letters, and so on. Ivory brushes with the owner's
monogram, all sorts of pretty Japanese boxes, and dress-
ing-cases, silver- backed brushes and mirrors, button-
hooks, knives, scissors can be neatly laid out.

A little table for afternoon tea should stand ready,

THE FURNISHING OF A COUNTRY HOUSE. 239

with a tray of Satsuma or old Worcester, with cups and .
tea equipage, and a copper kettle with alcohol lamp
should stand on a bracket on the wall. In the heating
of water, a trivet should be attached to the grate, and a
little iron kettle might sing forever on the hob. Orna-
mental ottomans in plush covers, which open and dis-
close a wood box, should stand by the fireplace.
Chameleon glass lamps with king-fisher stems are pretty
on the mantel-piece, which can be upholstered to match
the bed ; and there may be vases in amber, primrose,
cream-colour, pale blue, and ruby. No fragrant flowers
or growing plants should be allowed in a bedroom.
There should be at least one clock in the room, to strike
the hour with musical reiteration.

As for baths, the guest should be asked if he prefers
hot or cold water, and the hour at which he will have it.
If a tin hat-bath, or an india-rubber tub is used, the
maid should enter and arrange it in this manner : first
lay a rubber cloth on the floor and then place the tub
on it. Then bring a large pail of cold water, and
a can of hot. Place near the tub a towel-rack hung with
fresh towels, both damask and Turkish, and if a full-
length Turkish towel be added it will be a great luxury.
If the guest be a gentleman, and no man-servant be
kept, this should all be arranged the night before, with
the exception of course of the hot water, which can be
left outside the door at any hour in the morning when it
is desired. If it is a stationary tub, of course the matter
is a simple one, and depends on the turn of a couple of
faucets.

Some visitors are very fussy and dislike to be waited
on ; to such the option must be given : " Do you
prefer to light your own fire, to turn on your bath, to

240 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

make your own tea, or shall the maid enter at eight
o'clock and do it for you?" Such questions are often
asked in an English country house. Every facility for
doing the work would of course be supplied to the
visitor.

The bedroom being nowadays made so very attrac-
tive, the guest should stay in it as much as possible, if he
or she find that the hostess likes to be alone ; in short,
absent yourself occasionally. Do your letter-writing and
some reading in your room. Most people prefer this
freedom and like to be let alone in the morning.

At a country house, gentlemen should be very particu-
lar to dress for dinner. If not in the regulation claw-
hammer, still with a change of garment. There is a
very good garment called a smokee, which is worn by
gentlemen in the summer, a sort of light jacket of black
cloth, which goes well with either black or white cravat ;
but with all the laisser allei' of a country visit, inatten-
tion to the proprieties of dress is not included.

A guest must go provided with a lawn- tennis costume, if
he plays that noble game which has become the great
consolation of our rising generation. No doubt the
hostess blesses the invention of this great time killer, as
she sees her men and maidens trooping out to the
ground, under the trees. This suggests the subject of
out-of-door refreshment, the claret cup, the champagne
cup, the shandy gaif, the fresh cider, and the thousand
and one throat-coolers, for which our American genius
seems to have been inspired to meet the drain of a very
dry climate, and which we shall consider elsewhere.

ENTERTAINING IN A COUNTRY HOUSE.

We who love the country salute you who love the town. I
praise the rivulets, the rocks overgrown with moss, and the groves
of the delightful country. And do you ask why ? I live and reign
as soon as I have quitted those things which you extol to the
skies with joyful applause, and like a priest's fugitive-slave I
reject luscious wafers; I desire plain bread, which is more agree-
able than honied cakes. — Horace, Ode X.

POETS have been in the habit of praising a country
Hfe since the days of Homer, but Americans
have not as a people appreciated its joys. As soon as a
countryman was able to do it, he moved to the largest
city near him, presumably New York, or perhaps Paris.
The condition of opulence, much desired by those who
had been bred in poverty, suggested at once the greater
convenience of a town life, and the busy work-a-day
world, to which most Americans are born, necessitates
the nearness to Wall Street, to banks, to people, and to
the town.

City people were content formerly to give their chil-
dren six weeks of country air, and old New Yorkers did
not move out of the then small city, even in the hot
months. The idea of going to the country to live for
pleasure, to find in it a place in which to spend one's
money and to entertain, has been, to the average Amer-
ican mind, a thing of recent growth. Perhaps our
climate has much to do with this. People bred in the

i6

24^ THE ART OF ENTERtAINlNa

country feared to meet that long cold winter of the
North, which even to the well-to-do was filled with
suffering. Who does not remember the ice in the pitcher
of a morning, which must be broken before even faces
were washed?

Therefore the furnace-heated city house, the compan-
ionship, the bustle, the stir, and convenience of a city
has been, naturally enough, preferred to the loneUness of
the country. As Hawthorne once said, Americans were
not yet sufficiently civilized to live in the country. When
he went to England, and saw a different order of things,
he understood why.

England, a small place with two thousand years of
civilization, with admirable roads, with landed estates,
with a mild winter, with a taste for sport, with dogs,
horses, and well-trained servants, was a very different
place.

It may be years before we make our country life as
agreeable as it is in England. We have to conquer
climate first. But the love of country life is growing in
America. Those so fortunate as to be able to live in a
climate like that of southern California can certainly
quote Horace with sympathy. Those who live so near
to a great city as to command at once city conveniences
and country air and freedom, are amongst the fortunate
of the earth. And to hundreds, thousands of such, in
our delightfully prosperous new country, the art of
entertaining in a country house assumes a new interest.

No better model for a hostess can be found than an
Englishwoman. There is, when she receives her guests,
a quiet cordiality, a sense of pleasurable expectancy, an
inbred ease, grace, suavity, composure, and respect for
her visitors, which seems to come naturally to a well-

ENTERTAINING IN A COUNTRY HOUSE. 243

bred Englishwoman ; that is to say, to the best types of
the highest class. To be sure they have had vast
experience in the art of entertaining ; they have learned
this useful accomplishment from a long line of well-
trained predecessors. They have no domestic cares to
worry them. At the head of her own house, an English-
woman is as near perfection as a human being can be.

There is the great advantage of the English climate,
to begin with. It is less exciting than ours. Nervous
women are there almost unknown. Their ability to take
exercise, the moist and soft air they breathe, their good
appetite and healthy digestion give English women a
physical condition almost always denied to an American.

Our climate drives us on by invisible whips ; we
breathe oxygen more intoxicating than champagne.
The great servant question bothers us from the cradle to
the grave ; it has never entered into an English woman's
scheme of annoyance, so that in an English hostess there
is a total absence of fussiness.

English women spend the greater part of the year in
travelling, or at home in the country. Town life is with
them a matter of six weeks or three months at the most.
They are fond of nature, of walking, of riding; they
share with the men a more vigorous physique than is
given to any other race. A French or Italian woman
dreads a long walk, the companionship of a dozen dogs,
the yachting and the race course, the hunting-field and
the lawn tennis pursued with indefatigable vigilance;
but the fair English girl, with her blushing cheeks, her
dog, her pony, and her hands full of wild flowers, is a
character worth crossing the ocean to see. She is the
product of the highest civilization, and as such is still
near the divine model which nature furnishes. She hag

244 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

the underlying charm of simplicity, she is the very rose
of perfect womanhood. She may seem shy, awkward,
and reserved, but what the world calls pride or coldness
may turn out to be hidden virtue, or reserve, or modesty.

English home education is a seminary of infinite
importance ; a girl learns to control her speech, to be
always calm and well-bred. She has been toned down
from her youth. She has been carefully taught to respect
the duties of her high position ; she has this advantage to
counterbalance the disadvantage which we freeborn citi-
zens think may come with an overpride of birth, — she
has learned the motto noblesse oblige. The English fire-
side is a beacon light forever to the soldier in the
Crimea, to the colonist in Australia, to the grave official
in India, to the missionary in the South Seas, to the
English boy wherever he may be. It sustains and
ennobles the English woman at home and abroad.

As a hostess, the English woman is sure to mould her
house to look like home. She has soft low couches for
those who like them, high-backed tall chairs for the tall,
low chairs for the lowly. She has her bookcases and
pretty china scattered everywhere, she has work-baskets
and writing-tables and flowers, particularly wild ones,
which look as if she had tossed them in the vases her-
self. Her house looks cheerful and cultivated.

I use the word advisedly, for all taste must be culti-
vated. A state apartment in an old English house can
be inexpressibly dreary. High ceilings, stiff old giran-
doles, pictures of ancestors, miles of mirrors, and the
Laocoon or other specimens of Grecian art, which no
one cares for except in the Vatican, and the ceramic and
historical horrors of some old collector, who had no
taste, — are enough to frighten a visitor. But when a

ENTERTAINING IN A COUNTRY HOUSE. 245

young or an experienced English hostess has smiled on
such a house, there will be some dehghtful lumber strewn
around, no end of pretty brackets and baskets and curtains
and screens, and couches piled high with cushions ; and
then the quaint carvings, the rather affected niches, the
mantelpiece nearly up to the ceiling, as in Hogarth's
picture, — all these become humanized by her touch. The
spirit of a hostess should aim at the combination of use
and beauty. Some finer spirits command both, as
Brunelleschi hung the dome at Florence high in air, and
made a thing of beauty, which is a joy forever, but did
not forget to build under it a convenient church as well.
As for the bedrooms in an English country house, they
transcend description, they are the very apotheosis of
comfort.

The dinners are excellent, the breakfast and lunch
comfortable, informal, and easy, the horses are at your dis-
posal, the lawn and garden are yours for a stroll, the
chapel lies near at hand, where you can study architecture
and ancient brass. There are pleasant people in the house,
you are let alone, you are not being entertained. That
most dreadful of sensations, that somebody has you on
his mind, and must show you photographs and lift off your
eii7iiii is absent ; you seem to be in Paradise.

English people will tell you that house parties are
dull, — not that all are, but some are. No doubt the
jaded senses lose the power of being pleased. A visit
to an English house, to an American who brings with her
a fresh sense of enjoyment, and who remembers the
limitations of a new country, one who loves antiquity,
history, old pictures, and all that time can do, one
who is hungry for Old World refinements, to such an one
a visit to an English country house is delightful. To a

246 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

worn-out English set whose business it has been for a
quarter of a century to go from one house to another,
no doubt it is dull. Some unusual distraction is craved.

" To reUeve the monotony and silence and the dull,
depressing cloud which sometimes settles on the most
admirably arranged English dinner-party, even an Amer-
ican savage would be welcomed," says a modern novel-
writer. How much more welcome then is a pretty young
woman who, with a true enthusiasm and a wild liberty,
has found her opportunity and uses it, plays the banjo,
tells fortunes by the hand, has no fear of rank, is in her
set a glacier of freshness with a heart of fire, like Roman
punch.

How much more gladly is a young American woman
welcomed, in such a house, and how soon her head is
turned. She is popular until she carries off the eldest
son, and then she is severely criticised, and by her spoiled
caprices becomes a heroine for Ouida to rejoice in, and
the fond of a society novel.

But the glory is departing from many a stately English
country house. Fortune is failing them ; they are, many
of them, to rent. Rich Americans are buying their old
pictures. The Gainsboroughs, the Joshua Reynoldses,
the Rembrandts, which have been the pride of English
country houses, are coming down, charmed by the silver
music of the almighty dollar ; the old fairy tale is coming
true, — even the furniture dances.

We have the money and we have the vivacity, accord-
ing to even our severest critics ; we have now to cultivate
the repose of an English hostess, if we would make our
country houses as agreeable as she does.

We cannot improvise the antiquity, or the old chapel,
or the brasses; we cannot make our roads as line as

ENTERTAINING IN A COUNTRY HOUSE. 247

those which enable an English house party to drive six-
teen miles to a dinner ; in fact we must admit that they
have been nine hundred years making a lawn even.
But we must try to do things our own way, and use
our own advantages so that we can make our guests
comfortable.

The American autumn is the most glorious of seasons
for entertaining in a country house. Nature hangs our
hillsides then with a tapestry that has no equal even at
Windsor. The weather, that article which in America is
so apt to be good that if it is bad we apologize for it, is
more than apt to be good in October, and makes the
duties of a hostess easy then, for Nature helps to
entertain.

It is to be feared that we have not yet learned to be
guests. Trusting to that boundless American hospitality
which has been apt to say, " Come when you please and
stay as long as you can," we decline an invitation for the
6th, saying we can come on the 9th. This cannot be
done when people begin to give house-parties. We
must go on the 6th or not at all.

We should also define the limits of a visit, as in Eng-
land ; one is asked on Wednesday to arrive at five, to
leave at eleven on Saturday. Then one does not over-
stay one's welcome. Host and hostess and guest must
thoroughly understand one another on this point, and
then punctuality is the only thing to be considered.

The opulent, who have butler, footman, and French
cooks, need read no further in this chapter, the remainder
of which will be directed to that larger class who have
neither, and who have to help themselves. No lady
should attempt to entertain in the country who has not a
good cOok, and one or two attendant maids who can

24S THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

wait well and perform other duties about the house.
With these three and with a good deal of knowledge
herself, a hostess can make a country house attractive.

The dining-room should be the most agreeable room
in the house, shaded in the morning and cool in the
afternoon, — a large room with a hard- wood floor and
mats, if possible, as these are clean and cool.

Carving should be done by one of the servants at a
side table. There is nothing more depressing on a
warm evening than a smoking joint before one's plate.
A light soup only should be served, leaving the more
substantial varieties for cold weather.

Nowadays the china and glass are so very pretty, and
so very cheap, that they can be bought and used and
left in the house all winter without much risk. If people
are living in the country all winter a different style of fur-
nishing, and a different style of entertaining is no doubt
in order.

It is well to have very easy laws about breakfast, and
allow a guest to descend when he wishes. If possible
give your guest an opportunity to breakfast in his room.
So many people nowadays want simply a cup of tea, and
to wait until noon before eating a heavy meal ; so many
desire to eat steaks, chops, toast, eggs, hot cakes, and
coffee at nine o'clock, that it is difficult for a hostess to
know what to do. Her best plan, perhaps, is to have an
elastic hour, and let her people come down when they
feel like it. In England the maid enters the bedroom
with tea, excellent black tea, a toasted muffin, and two
boiled eggs at eight o'clock, a pitcher of hot water for
the wash-stand, and a bath. No one is obliged to appear
until luncheon, nor even then if indisposed so to do.
Dinner at whatever hour is a formal meal, and every one

ENTERTAINING IN A COUNTRY HOUSE. 249

should come freshly dressed and in good form, as the
English say.

The Arab law of hospitality should be printed over
every lintel in a country house : " Welcome the coming,
s^esd the parting guest ; " " He who tastes my salt is
sacred; neither I nor my household shall attack him,
nor shall one word be said against him. Bring corn,
wine, and fruit for the passing stranger. Give the one
who departs from thy tents the swiftest horse. Let him
who would go from thee take the fleet dromedary, re-
serve the lame one for thyself." If these momentous
hints were carried out in America, and if these chil-
dren of the desert, with their grave faces, composed
manners, and noble creed, could be Uterally obeyed,
we fear country-house visiting would become almost
too popular.

But if we cannot give them the fleet dromedary, we
can drive them to the fast train, which is much better
than any dromedary. We can make them comfortable,
and enable, them to do as they like. Unless we can do
that, we should not invite any one.

Unless a guest has been rude, it is the worst taste to
criticise him. He has come at your request. He has
entered your house as an altar of safety, an ark of
refuge. He has laid his armour down. Your kind wel-
come has unlocked his reserve. He has spoken freely,
and felt that he was in the presence of friends. If in
this careless hour you have discovered his weak spot, be
careful how you attack it. The intimate unreserve of a
guest should be respected.

And upon the guest an equal, nay, a superior con-
scientiousness should rest, as to any revelation of the
secrets he may have found out while he was a visitor.

250 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

No person should go from house to house bearing tales.
We do not go to our friend's house to find the skeleton
in the closet. No criticisms of the weaknesses or ec-
centricities of any member of the family should ever be
heard from the lips of a guest. " Whose bread I have
eaten, he is henceforth my brother," is another Arab
proverb.

Speak well always of your entertainers, but speak little
of their domestic arrangements. Do not violate the
sanctity of the fireside, or wrong the shelter of the roof-
tree which has lent you its protection for even a night.

The decorations for a country ballroom, in a rural
neighbourhood, have called forth many an unknown genius
in that art which has become the well-known profession
of interior decoration. The favourite place in Lenox,
and at many a summer resort, has been the large floor
of a new barn. Before the equine tenants begin to
champ their oats, the youths and maids assume the right
to trip the light fantastic toe on the well-laid hard floor.
The ornamentations at such a ball at Lenox were
candles put in pine shields, with tin holders, and deco-
rations of corn and wheat sheaves, tied with scarlet
ribbons, surrounding pumpkins which were laid in im-
provised brackets, hastily cut out of pine, with hatchets,
by the young men. Magnificent autumn leaves were
arranged with ferns as garlands, and many were the
devices for putting candles and kerosene lamps behind
these so as to give almost the effect of stained glass,
without causing a general conflagration.

The effect of a pumpkin surrounded by autumn leaves
recalls the Gardens of the Hesperides. No apple like
those golden apples which we call pumpkins was ever
seen there. To be sure they are rather large to throw

ENTERTAINING IN A COUNTRY HOUSE. 2$ I

to a goddess, and might bowl her down, but they look
very handsome when tranquilly reposing.

A sort of Druidical procession might be improvised to
help along this ball, and the hostess would amuse her
company for a week with the preparations.

First, get a negro fiddler to head it, dressed like
Browning's Pied Piper in gay colours, and playing his
fiddle. Then have a procession of children, dressed in
gay costumes ; following them, " two milk-white oxen
garlanded " with wreaths of flowers and ribbons, driven
by a boy in Swiss costume ; then a goat-cart with the
baby driving two goats, also garlanded ; next a lovely
Alderney cow, also decorated, accompanied by a milk-
maid, carrying a milking-stool ; then another long line of
children, followed by the youths and maids, bearing the
decorations for the ballroom. Let all these parade the
village street and wind up at the ballroom, where the
cow can be milked, and a surprise of ice cream and cake
given to the children. This is a Sunday-school picnic
and a ball decoration, all in one, and the country lady
who can give it will have earned the gratitude of
neighbours and friends. It has been done.

In the spring' the decorations of a ballroom might be
early wild flowers and the delicate ground-pine, far
more beautiful than smilax, and also ferns, the treasures
of the nearest wood.

Wild flowers, ferns, and grasses, the ground-pine, the
checkerberry, and the partridge berry make the most
exquisite garlands, and it is only of late — when a few
great geniuses have discovered that the field daisy is the
prettiest of flowers, that the best beauty is that which is
at our hands wherever we are, that the greatest rarity is
the grass in the meadow — that we have reached the true
meaning of interior decoration.

252 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Helen Hunt, in one of her prettiest papers, describes
the beauty of kinnikinick, a lovely vine which grows all
over Colorado. Although we have not that, we can
even in winter find the hemlock boughs, the mistletoe,
the holly, for our decorations. Of course, hot-house
flowers and smilax, if they can be obtained, are very
beautiful and desirable, but they are not within the reach
of every purse, or of every country house.

Sheaves of wheat, tied with fine ribbons and placed
at intervals around a room, can be made to have the
beauty of an armorial bearing. These, alternating with
banners and hemlock boughs, are very effective. All
these forms which Nature gives us have suggested the
Corinthian capital, the Ionic pillar, the most graceful of
Greek carvings. The acanthus leaf was the inspiration
of the architect who built the Acropohs.

Vine leaves, especially after they begin to turn, are
capable of infinite suggestion, and we all remember the
recent worship of the sunflower. Hop vines and
clematis, especially after the last has gone to seed,
remain long as ornaments.

As for the refreshments to be served, — the oyster stew,
the ice cream, the good home-made cake, coffee, and
tea are within the reach of every country houbekeeper,
and are in their way unrivalled. Of course, if sne wishes
she can add chicken salad, boned turkey, pdte de foie
gras, and punch, hot or cold.

If it is in winter, the coachmen outside must not be
forgotten. Some hot coffee and oysters should be sent
to these patient sufferers, for our coachmen are not
dressed as are the Russians, in fur from head to foot.
If possible, there should be a good fire in the kitchen, to
which these attendants on our pleasure could be ad-
mitted to thaw out.

A PICNIC.

" Come hither, come hither, the broom was in blossom all ovef

yon rise.
There went a wild murmur of brown bees about it with songs from

the wood.
We shall never be younger, O Love ! let us forth to the world

'neath our eyes —
Ay ! the world is made young, e'en as we, and right fair is her

youth, and right good."

APPETITES flourish in the free air of hills and
meadows, and after drinking in the ozone of the
sea, one feels like drinking something else. There is a
very good story of a reverend bishop who with a friend
went a-fishing, like Peter, and being very thirsty essayed
to draw the cork of a claret bottle. In his zeal he struck
his bottle against a stone, and the claret oozed out to
refresh the thirsty earth, instead of that precious porce-
lain of human clay of which the bishop was made. His
remark to his friend was, "James, you are a layman,
why don't you say something? "

Now to avoid having our layman or our reverend wish
to say something, let us try to suggest what they should
eat and what they should drink.

There are many kinds of picnics, — fashionable ones
at Newport and other watering-places, where the French
waiters of the period are told to get up a repast as if at
the Casino ; there are clam-bakes which are ideal, anci

254 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

there are picnics at Lenox and at Sharon, where the
hotel keeper will help to fill the baskets.

But the real picnic, which calls for talent and executive
ability, should emanate from some country house, where
two or three other country houses co-operate and help.
Then what jolly drives in the brakes, what queer old
family horses and antediluvian wagons, what noble dog-
carts, and what prim pony phaetons can join in the pro-
cession. The day should be fine, and the place selected
a hillside with trees, commanding a fine view. This is
at least desirable. The necessity for a short walk, a
short scramble after leaving the horses, should not be
disregarded.

The night before the picnic, which presumably starts
early, the lady of the house should see to it that a boiled
ham of perfect flavour is in readiness, and she may flank
it with a boiled tongue, four roasted chickens, a game pie,
and any amount of stale bread to cut into sandwiches.

Now a sandwich can be at once the best and the
worst thing in the world, but to make it the best the
bread should be cut very thin, the butter, which must
be as fresh as a cowslip, should be spread with deft
fingers, then a slice of ham as thin as a wafer with not
too much fat must be laid between, with a sotipqon of
mustard. The prepared ham which comes in cans is
excellent for making sandwiches. Cheese sandwiches,
substituting a thin slice of American fresh cheese for the
ham, are delicious, and some rollicking good-livers toast
the cheese.

Tongue, cold beef, and even cold sausages make ex-
cellent varieties of sandwich. To prevent their becom-
ing the '' sand which is under your feet " cover them
over night with a damp napkin,

A PICNIC. ^i^

Chicken can be eaten for itself alone, but it should be
cut into very convenient fragments, judiciously salted
and wrapped in a very white napkin.

The game or veal pie must be in a strong earthen
dish, and having been baked the day before, its pieces
will have amalgamated with the crust, and it will cut into
easily handled slices.

All must be packed in luncheon baskets with little
twisted cornucopias holding pepper and salt, hard-boiled
eggs, the patty by itself, croquettes, if they happen to
be made, cold fried oysters, excellent if in batter and
well-drained after cooking; no article must be allowed
to touch another.

If cake and pastry be taken, each should have a sepa-
rate basket. Fruit also should be carefully packed by
itself, for if food gets mixed and mussy, even a mountain
appetite will shun it.

A bottle of olives is a welcome addition, and pickles
and other relishes may be included. Sardines are also
in order.

Now what to drink? Cold tea and iced coffee pre-
pared the night before, the cream and sugar put in just
before starting, should always be provided. They are
capital things to climb on, to knit up the " ravelled
sleeve of care," and if somewhat exciting to the nerves,
will be found the best thirst-quenchers.

These beverages should be carefully bottled and firmly
corked, — and don't forget the corkscrew. Plenty of tin
cups, or those strong glass beer-mugs which you can
throw across the room without breaking, should also be
taken.

Claret is the favourite wine for picnics, as being light
and refreshing. Ginger ale is excellent and cheap and

2 $6 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

compact. *' Champagne," says Walter Besant in his
novel " By Celia's Arbour " is a wine as Catholic as the
Athanasian Creed, because it goes well with chicken and
with the more elaborate J>dfe de foie gras.

Some men prefer sherry with their lunch, some take
beer. If you have room and a plentiful cellar, take all
these things. But tea and coffee and ginger ale will do
for any one, any^vhere.

It has been suggested by those who have suffered
losses from mischievous friends, that a composite basket
containing everything should be put in each carriage, but
this is refining the matter.

Arrived at the picnic-ground, the whole force should
be employed by the hostess as an amiable body of wait-
ers. The ladies should set the tables, and the men bring
water from the spring. The less ceremony the better.

Things have not been served in order, they never are
at a picnic, and the cunning hostess now produces some
claret cup. She has made it herself since they reached
the top of the mountain. Two bottles of claret to one
of soda water, two lemons, a glass of sherry, a cucumber
sliced in to give it the most perfect flavour, plenty of
sugar and ice ; and where had she hidden that im-
mense pitcher, a regular brown toby, in which she has
brewed it?

"I know," said an enfant terrible ; "I saw her hid-
ing it under the back seat."

There it is, filled with claret cup, the most refreshinr
drink for a warm afternoon. Various young persons of
opposite sexes, who have been looking at each other more
than at the game pie, now prepare to disappear in the
neighbouring paths, under a pretence but feebly made
of plucking blackberries, — artless dissemblers !

A PICNIC. 257

Mamma shouts, " Mary, Caroline, Jane, Tom, Harry,
be back before five, for we must start for home." May
she get them, even at half-past six. From a group of
peasants over a bunch of sticks in the Black Forest,
to a queen who delighted to picnic in Fontainebleaii,
these al fresco entertainments are ever delicious. We
cannot put our ears too close to the confessional of
Nature. She has always a new secret to tell us, and
from the most artificial society to that which is primi-
tive and rustic, they always carry the same charm. It is
the Antseus trying to get back to Mother Earth, who
strengthens him.

In packing a lunch for a fisherman, or a hunter, the
hostess often has to explain that brevity is the soul of
wit. She must often compress a few eatables into the
side pocket, and the bottle of claret into the fishing-
basket. If not, she can palm off on the man one of
those tin cases which poor little boys carry to school,
which look like books and have suggestive titles, such as
** Essays of Bacon," " Crabbe's Tales," or " News from
Turkey," on the back. If the fisherman will take one of
these his sandwiches will arrive in better order.

The Western hunter takes a few beans and some slices
of pork, some say in his hat, when he goes off on the
warpath. The modern hunter or fisher, if he drive to
the meet or the burn, can be trusted with an orthodox
lunch-basket, which should hold cold tea, cold game- pie,
a few olives, and a bit of cheese, and a large reserve of
sandwiches. When we grow more celestial, when we
achieve the physical theory of another life, we may know
how to concentrate good eating in a more portable form
than that of the sandwich, but we do not know it yet.

Take an ^<g% sandwich, — hard-boiled eggs chopped,
17

258 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

and laid between the bread and butter. Can anything be
more Uke the sonnet ? — complete in only fourteen lines,
and yet perfection ! Only indefinite chicken, wheaten
flour, the milk of the cow, all that goes to make up our
daily food in one little compact rectangle ! Egg sand-
wich ! It is immense in its concentration.

Some people like to take salads and apple pies to pic-
nics. There are great moral objections to thus exposing
these two delicacies to the rough experiences of a picnic.
A salad, however well dressed, is an oily and slippery
enjoyment. Like all great joys, it is apt to escape us, es-
pecially in a lunch basket. Apple pie, most delicate of
pasties, will exude, and you are apt to find the crust on the
top of the basket, and the apple in the bottom of the
carriage.

If you will take salad, and will not be taught by expe-
rience, make a perfect jardiniere of all the cold vege-
tables, green peas, beans, and cauliflower, green peppers,
cucumbers, and cold potatoes, and take this mixture dry
to the picnic. Have your mayonnaise in a bottle, and
dress the salad with it after sitting down, on a very
slippery, ferny rock, at the table. Truth compels the
historian to observe, that this is delicious with the ham,
and you will not mind in the least, until the next day,
the large grease-spot on the side breadth of your
gown.

As for the apple pie, that is taken at the risk of the
owner. It had better be left at home for tea.

Of course, /(i/^ de foie gras, sandwiches, boned turkey,
jellied tongue, the various cold birds, as partridges, quails,
pheasant, and chicken, and raw oysters, can be taken to
a very elaborate picnic near a large town. Salmon
dressed with green sauce, lobster salad, every kind of

A PICNIC. 259

salad, is in order if you can only get it there, and " caviare
to the general." Cold terrapin is not to be despised ;
eaten on a bit of bread it is an excellent dainty, and so
is the cold fried oyster.

Public picnics, like Sunday-school picnics, fed with
ice cream and strawberries ; or the clam bake, a unique
and enjoyable affair by the sea, are in the hands of ex-
perts, and need no description here. The French people
picnic every day in the Bois de Boulogne, the woods of
Versailles, and even on their asphalt, eating out of doors
when they can. It is a very strange thing that we do
not improve our fine climate by eating our dinners and
breakfasts with the full draught of an unrivalled ozone.

PASTIMES OF LADIES.

Her feet beneath her petticoat,

Like little mice, stole in and out,
As if they feared the light ;

But oh, she dances such a way !
No sun upon an Easter day
Is half so fine a sight.

Sir John Suckling.

THE "London Times" says that the present season
has seen "drivmg jump to a great height of
favour amongst fashionable women."

It is a curious expression, but enhghtens us as to the
Hberty which even so great an authority takes with our
common language. There is no doubt of the fact that
the pony phaeton and the pair of ponies are becoming
a great necessity to an energetic woman. The little
pony and the Ralli cart, as a ladies' pastime, is a familiar
figure in the season at Newport, at a thousand country
places, at the seaside, in our own Central Park, and all
through the West and South.

It has been much more the custom for ladies in the
West and South to drive themselves, than for those at the
North ; consequently they drive better. Only those who
know how to drive well ought ever to attempt it, for
they not only endanger their own lives, but a dozen other
lives. Whoever has seen a runaway carriage strike an-
other vehicle, and has beheld the breaking up, can realize

PASTIMES OF LADIES. 26 1

for "-.he first time the tremendous force of an object in
motiOn. The little Ralli cart can become a battering-
ram of prodigious force.

No form of recreation is so useful and so becoming as
horseback exercise. No English woman looks so well as
when turned out for out-of-door exercise. And our
American women, who buy their habits and hats in
London, are getting to have the same chic. Indeed, so
immensely superior is the London habit considered, that
the French circus-women who ride in the Bois, making
so great a sensation, go over to London to have their
habits made, and thus return the compliment which
English ladies pay to Paris, in having all their dinner
gowns and tea gowns made there. Perhaps disliking
this sort of copy, the Englishwomen are becoming care-
less of their appearance on horseback, and are coming
out in a straw hat, a covert coat, and a cotton skirt.

The soft felt hat has long been a favourite on the Conti-
nent, at watering-places for the EngHsh ; and it is much
easier for the head. Still, in case of a fall it does not
save the head like a hard, masculine hat.

We have not yet, as a nation, taken to cycling for
women ; but many Englishwomen go all over the globe
on a tricycle. A husband and wife are often seen on a
tricycle near London, and women who lead sedentary
lives, in offices and schools, enjoy many of their Saturday
afternoons in this way.

Boating needs to be cultivated in America. It is a
superb exercise for developing a good figure ; and to
manage a punt has become a common accomplishment
for the riverside girls. Ladies have regattas on the
Thames.

Fencing, which many actresses learn, is a very admi-

262 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

rable process for developing the figure. The ydnng
Princesses of Wales are adepts in this. It requires an
outfit consisting of a dainty tunic reaching to the knees,
a fencing-jacket of soft leather with tight sleeves, gaunt-
let gloves, a mask, a pair of foils, and costing about
fifteen dollars.

American women as a rule are not fond of walking.
There must be something in the nature of an attraction
or a duty to rouse our delicate girls to walk. They will
not do it for their health alone. Gymnastic teaching is,
however, giving them more strength, and it would be
well if in every family of daughters there were some
caHsthenic training, to develop the muscles, and to induce
a more graceful walk.

To teach a girl to swim is almost a duty, and such
splendid physical exercises will have a great influence
over that nervous distress which our climate produces
with its over-fulness of oxygen.

If girls do not like to walk, they all like to dance, and
it is not intended as a pun when we mention that " a
great jump " has been made back to the old-fashioned
dancing, in which freedom of movement is allowed.
Those who saw Mary Anderson's matchless grace in the
Winter's Tale all tried to go and dance like her, and to
see Ellen Terry's spring, as the pretty Olivia, teaches one
how entirely beautiful is this strong command of one's
muscles. From the German cotillion, back to the
Virginia reel, is indeed a bound.

Our grandfathers knew how to dance. We are fast
getting back to them. The traditions of Taglioni still
lingered fifty years ago. The earliest dancing-masters
were Frenchmen, and our ancestors were taught to
pirouette as did Vestris when he was so obliging as to

PASTIMES OF LADIES. 263

say after a royal command, " The house of Vestris has
alwayrs danced for that of Bourbon."

Tie galop has, during the long langour of the dance,
alone held its own, in the matter of jolHty. The gHde
waltz, the redowa, the stately minuet, give only the slow
and graceful motions. The galop has always been a
great tivourite with the Swedes, Danes, and Russians,
while the redowa reminds one of the graceful Viennese
who dance it so well. The mazourka, danced to wild
Polish music, is a poetical and active affair.

The introduction of Hungarian bands and Hungarian
music is another reason why dancing has become a
"hop, skip and a bound," without losing dignity or
grace. Activity need not be vulgar.

The German cotillion, born many years ago at Vienna
to meet the requirements of court etiquette, is still the
fashionable dance with which the ball closes. Its favours,
beginning with flowers and ribbons and bits of tinsel, have
now ripened into fans, bracelets, gold scarf-pins and
pencil-cases, and many things more expensive. Favours
may cost five thousand dollars for a fashionable ball, or
dance, as they say in London.

The German is a dance of infinite variety, and to
lead it requires a man of head. One such leader, who
can construct new figures, becomes a power in society.
The waltz, galop, redowa, and polka step can all be
utilized in it. There is a slow walk in the quadrille
figure, a stately march, the bows and courtesies of the
old minuet, and above all, the tour de valse, which is
the means of locomotion from place to place. The
changeful exigencies of the various figures lead the forty
or fifty, or the two hundred to meet, exchange greet-
ings, dance with each other, and change their geographi-

264 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

cal position many times. Indeed no army goes throigh
more evolutions.

A pretty figure is La Corbeille, VAnneaUy et la Fleur.
The first couple performs a totir de valse, after whici the
gentleman presents the lady with a basket, containing a
ring and a flower, then resumes his seat. The ladf pre-
sents the ring to one gentleman, the flower to arother,
and the basket to the third. The gendeman to whom
she presents the ring selects a partner for himself, the
gendeman who receives the flower dances with tie lady
who presents it, while the other gentleman holds the
basket in his hand and dances alone.

The kaleidoscope is one of the prettiest figures. The
four couples perform a tour de vahe^ then form as for a
quadrille ; the next four couples in order take positions
behind the first four couples, each of the latter couples
facing the same as the couples in front. At a signal
from the leader, the ladies of the inner couples cross
right hands, move entirely round and turn into places by
giving left hands to their partners. At the same time
the outer couples waltz half round to opposite places.
At another signal the inner couples waltz entirely round,
and finish facing outward. x\t the same time the outer
couples chassent c raise and turn at corners with right
hands, then dechassent and turn partners with left hands.
Valse generale with vis a vis.

La Cavalier Trompe is another favourite figure. Five
or six couples perform a tour de valse. They afterwards
place themselves in ranks of two, one couple behind the
other. The lady of the first gendeman leaves him and
seeks a gentleman of another column. While this is
going on the first gentleman must not look behind him.
The first lady and the gentleman whom she has selected

PASTIMES OF LADIES. 26$

separate and advance on tip- toe on each side of the
column, in order to deceive the gentleman at the head,
and endeavour to join each other for a waltz. If the
firs; gentleman is fortunate enough to seize his lady, he
leaas off in a waltz ; if not, he must remain at his post
until he is able to take a lady. The last gentleman
remaining dances with the last lady.

To give a German in a private house, a lady has all
the furniture removed from her parlours, the floor cov-
ered with crash over the carpet, and a set of folding-
chairs for the couples to sit in. A bare wooden floor is
preferable to the carpet and crash.

It is considered that all taking part in a German are
introduced to one another, and on no condition whatever
must a lady, so long as she remains in the German,
refuse to speak or to dance with any gentleman whom
she may chance to receive as a partner. Every Amer-
ican should learn that he can speak to any one whom he
meets at a friend's house. The roof is an introduction,
and, for the purpose of making his hostess comfortable,
the guest should, at dinner-party and dance, speak to his
next neighbour.

The laws of the German are so strict, and to many so
tiresome, that a good many parties have abjured it, and
merely dance the round dances, the lancers and quad-
rilles, winding up with the Sir Roger de Coverley or the
Virginia Reel.

The leader of the German must have a comprehensive
glance, a quick ear and eye, and a great belief in him-
self. General Edward Ferrero, who made a good general,
declared that he owed all his success in war to his
training as a dancing-master. With all other qualities,
the leader of the German must have tact. It is no easy

266 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING. /.

/

matter to get two hundred people into all sorts of com-
binations and mazes and then to get them out again, to
offend nobody, and to produce that elegant kaleidoscope
called the German.

The term tour de valse is used technically, meaning
that the couple or couples performing it execute the
round dance designated by the leader once round the
room. Should the room be small, they make a second
tour. After the introductory tour de valse care must be
taken by those who perform it not to select ladies and
gentlemen who are on the floor, but from among those
who are seated. When the leader claps his hands to
warn those who are prolonging the valse, they must
immediately cease dancing.

The favours for the German are often fans, and this
time-honoured, historic article grows in beauty and ex-
pense every day. And what various memories come in
with the fan ! It was created in primeval ages. The
Egyptian ladies had fans of lotus leaves ; and lately a
breakfast was given all in Egyptian fashion, except the
eating. The Roman ladies carried immense fans of
peacocks' feathers. They did not open and shut like
ours, opening and shutting being a modern invention.
The flabilliferaor or fan-bearer, was some young atten-
dant, generally female, whose common business it was to
carry her mistress's fan. There is a Pompeian painting of
Cupid as the fan- bearer of Ariadne, lamenting her
desertion by Theseus. In Queen Elizabeth's day the
fan was usually made of feathers, like that still used in
the East. The handle was richly ornamented and set
with stones. A fashionable lady was never without her
fan, which was held to her girdle by a jewelled chain.
That fashion, with the large feathers, has returned in our

PASTIMES OF LADIES. 26/

day. Queen Elizabeth dropped a silver-handled fan into
the moat at Arnstead Hall, which occasioned many
madrigals. Sir Francis Drake presented to his royal
mistress a fan of feathers, white and red, enamelled with
a half-moon of mother-of-pearl. Poor Leicester gave
her, as his New Year's gift in 1574, a fan of white
feathers set in a handle of gold, adorned on one side with
two very fair emeralds, and fully garnished with rubies
and diamonds, and on each side a white bear, — his
cognizance, — and two pearls hanging, a lion rampant
and a white, muzzled bear at his foot. Just before
Christmas in 1595 Elizabeth went to Kew, and dined at
my Lord Keeper's house, and there was handed her a
fine fan with a handle garnished with diamonds.

Fans in Shakspeare's time seem to have been com-
posed of ostrich and other feathers, fastened to handles.
Gentlemen carried fans in those days, and in one of the
later figures of the German they now carry fans. Accord-
ing to an old manuscript in the Ashmolean Museum, Sir
Edward Cole rode the circuit with a prodigious fan, which
had a long stick with which he corrected his daughters.
Let us hope that that custom will not be reintroduced.

The vellum fans painted by VVatteau, and the lovely
fans of Spain enriched with jewels are rather too ex-
pensive for favours for the German; one very rich
entertainer gave away tortoise-shell fans with jewelled
sticks, two years ago, at Delmonico's. Fans of silk, egg-
shaped, and painted with birds, were used for an Easter
German.

Ribbons were used for a cotillon dinner with very
good effect. " From the chandeHer in the centre of the
dining room," we read, " depended twenty scarfs of gros-
grain ribbon, each three and a half yards long and nine

268 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

inches wide, heavily fringed and richly adorned at both
ends with paintings of flowers and foliage. These scarfs
were so arranged that an end of each came down to the
place one of the ladies was to occupy at the table, and
care was taken in their selection to have colours har-
monizing with the ladies' dress and complexion."

These cotillion dinners have been a pretty fashion
for two or three winters, as they enable four or five
young hostesses to each give a dinner, the whole four
to meet with their guests at one house for a small
German, after the dinner. Each hostess compares her
list with that of her neighbour, that there shall be no
confusion. It is believed that this device was the inven-
tion of the incomparable Mr. McAllister, to whom so-
ciety owes a great deal. Fashionable society Hke the
German must have a leader, some one who will take
trouble, and think out these elaborate details. Nowhere
in Europe is so much pains taken about such details as
with us.

The menus of these cotiUion dinners are often water-
colour paintings, worthy of preservation ; sometimes a
scene from one of Shakspeare's plays, sometimes a
copy of some famous French picture, — in either case
something delightfully artistic.

For a supper after a dance the dishes are placed on
the table, and it is served en buffet ; but for a sit-down
supper, served at little tables, the service should be
exactly like a dinner except that there is no soup or
fish.

The manner of using flowers in America at such
entertainments is simply bewildering. A climbing rose
will seem to be going everywhere over an invisible
trellis; delicate green vines will depend from the

PASTIMES OF LADIES. 269

chandelier, dropping roses ; roses cover the entire table-
cloth; or perhaps the flowers are massed, all of yellow,
or of white, or red, or pink.

Nothing could exceed the magnificence of the great
baskets of white and yellow chrysanthemums, roses,
violets, and carnations, at a breakfost given to the Comte
de Paris, at Delmonico's on October 20th, and at the
subsequent dinner given him by his brother officers of
the Army of the Potomac. His royal arms were in
white flowers, the fleiir de lis of Joan of Arc, on a blue
ground of flowers. Jacqueminot Roses went up and
down the table, with the words *' Grand Army of the
Potomac " in white flowers.

The orchid, that most regal and expensive of all
flowers, a single specimen often costing many dollars,
was used by a lady to make an imitation fire, the wood,
the flames, and all consisting of flowers placed in a most
artistic chimney-piece.

Indeed, the cost of the cut flowers used in New York
in one winter for entertaining is said to be five millions
of doHars. Orchids have this advantage over other
flowers — they have no scent ; and that in a mixed
company and a hot room is an advantage, for some
people cannot bear even the perfume of a rose.

A large lump of ice, with flowers trained over it, is a
delightfully refreshing adornment for a hot baflroom.
In grand party decorations, like one given by the
Prince of Wales to the Czarina of Russia, ten tons of ice
were used as an ornamental rockery. In smaller rooms
the glacier can be cut out and its base hidden in a tub,
lights put behind it and flowers and green vines draped
over it. The eff"ect is magical. The flowers are kept
fresh, the white column looks always well, and the cool-

270 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

ness it diffuses is delicious. It might, by way of contrast
to the Dark Continent, be a complimentary decoration
for a supper to be given to Mr. Stanley, to ornament the
ballroom with Arctic bowlders, around which should be
hung the tropical flowers and vines of Africa.

PRIVATE THEATRICALS.

A poor thing, my masters, not the real thing at all, a base imita-
tion, but still a good enough mock-orange, if you cannot have the
real thing. — Old Play.

SOME of our opulent citizens in the West, particularly
in that wondrous city Chicago, which is nearer to
Aladdin's Lamp than anything else I have seen, have
built private theatres in their palaces. This is taking
time by the forelock, and arranging for a whole family of
coming histrionic geniuses.

When all the arrangements for private theatricals must
be improvised, — and, indeed, it is a greater achieve-
ment to play in a barn than on the best stage, — the
following hints may prove serviceable.

Wherever the amateur actor elects to play, he must
consider the extraneous space behind the acting arena
necessary for his exits and entrances, and his theatrical
properties. In an ordinary house the back parlour, with
two doors opening into the dining-room, makes an ideal
theatre, for the exits can be masked and the space is
especially useful. At least one door opening into an-
other room is absolutely necessary, if no better arrange-
ment can be made. The best stage, of course, is like
that of a theatre, raised, with space at the back and sides,
for the players to retire to, and issue from. But if noth-
ing better can be managed, a pair of screens and a
curtain will do.

2/2 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

It is hardly necessary to say that all these arrange-
ments depend on the requirements of the play and its
legitimate business, which may demand a table, a bureau,
a piano, or a bed. That very funny piece " Box and
Cox " needs nothing but a bed, a table, and a fireplace.
And here we would say to the youthful actor, Select
your play at first with a view to its requiring little
change of scene, and not much furniture. A young
actor needs space. He is embarrassed by too many
chairs and tables. Then choose a play which has so
much varied incident that it will play itself.

The first thing is to build the stage. Any carpenter will
lay a few stout boards on end pieces, which are simply
squared joists, and for very little money will take away
the boards and joists afterwards^ so that a satisfactory
stage can be built for a few dollars. Sometimes, ingeni-
ous boys build their own stage with a few boxes, but this
is apt to be dangerous. Very few famiHes are without
an old carpet which will serve for a stage covering;
and if this is lacking, green baize is rery cheap. A
whole stage fitting, curtains and all, can be made of
greea baize.

Footlights may be made of tin, with bits of candle put
in ; or a row of old bottles of equal height, with candles
stuck in the mouth, make a most admirable and cheap
set of footlights.

The curtain is always difficult to arrange, especially in
a parlour. A light wooden frame should be made by
the carpenter, — firm at the joints, and as high as the
room allows. Attached to the stage, at the foot, this
frame forms three sides of a square. The curtain must
be firmly nailed to the top piece. A stiff wire should be
run along the lower edge of the curtain, and a number

PRIVATE THEATRICALS. 2^^

of rings attached to the back of it, in squares, — three
rows, of four rings each, extending from top to bottom.
Three cords are now fastened to the wire, and passing
through the rings are run over three pulleys on the
upper piece of the frame. It is well for all young mana-
gers of garret theatres to get up one of these curtains,
even with the help of an upholsterer, as the other draw-
curtain never works so securely, and often hurts the de-
noueijient of the play. When the drop curtain above de-
scribed is used, one person holds all the strings, and it
pulls together.

Now for the stage properties. They are easily made.
A boy who can paint a little will indicate a scene, with
black paint, on a white ground ; tinsel paper, red flan-
nel, and old finery will supply the fancy dresses.

A stage manager who is a natural born leader is in-
dispensable. Certain ambitious amateurs performed the
opera of '^ Patience " in New York. It would have been
a failure but for the musical talent of the two who took
the title roles, and the diligent six weeks' training which
the players received at the hand of the principal actor
in the real operetta. This seems very dear for the
whistle, when one can go and hear the real tune. It is
in places where the real play cannot be heard, that
amateur theatricals are of importance.

Young men at college get up the best of all amateur
plays, because they are realistic, and stop at nothing to
make strong outlines an'd deep shadows. They, too, buy
many properties like wigs and dresses, and give study
and observation to»the make-up of the character.

If they need a comic face they have an artist from
the theatre put it on with a camel's-hair pencil. An old
man's face, or a brigand's is only a bit of water-colour.

i8

5/4 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

A pretty girl can be made out of a heavy young matt
by rouge, chalk, and a blond wig. For a drunkard or
a villain, a few purple spots are painted on chin, cheek,
forehead and nose, judiciously.

Young girls are apt, in essaying private theatricals, to
sacrifice too much to prettiness. This is a fatal mistake ;
one must even sacrifice native bloom if the part requires
it, or put on rouge, if necessary.

As amusement is the object, the plays had better be
comedy than tragedy ; and no such delicate wordy duels
as the " Scrap of Paper," should be attempted, as that
requires the highest skill of two great actors.

After reading the part and committing the lines to
memory, young actors must submit to many and long
rehearsals. After many of these and much study, they
must not be discouraged if they grow worse instead of
better. Perseverance conquers all things, and at last
they reach the dress rehearsal. This is generally a dis-
appointment, and time should be allowed for two dress
rehearsals. It is a most excellent and advantageous
discouragement, if it leads the actors to more study.

The stage manager has a difficult I'ole to play, for he
may discover that his actors must change parts. This
nearly always excites a wounded self-love, and ill-feeling.
But each one should bear in mind that he is only a part
of a perfect whole, and be willing to sacrifice himself.

If, however, plays are not successful and cease to
amuse, the amateur stage can be utilized for tableaux
vivanfs, which are always pretty, and may be made very
artistic. The principle of a picture, the pyramidal form,
should be closely observed in a tableau.

There should be a square of black tarletan or gauze
nailed before the picture, between the players and the

PRIVATE THEATRICALS. 2/5

footlights. The drop curtain must be outside of this,
and go up and down very carefully, at a concerted
signal.

Although the pure white light of candles, or lime
light, is the best for such pictures, very pretty effects
can be easily made by the introduction of coloured
lights, such as are produced by the "use of nitrate of
strontia, chlorate of potash, sulphuret of antimony,
sulphur, oxymuriate of potassa, metallic arsenic, and
pulverized charcoal. Muriate of ammonia makes a
bluish-green fire, and many colours can be obtained
by a little study of chemistry.

To make a red fire, take five ounces of nitrate of
strontia dry, and one and a half ounces finely powdered
sulphur ; also five drachms chlorate of potash, and four
drachms sulphuret of antimony. Powder the last two
separately in a mortar, then mix them on paper and
having mixed the other ingredients, previously powdered,
add these last and rub the whole together on paper. To
use, mix a little spirits of wine with the powder, and
burn in a flat iron plate or pan ; the effect is excellent
on the picture.

Sulphate of copper when dissolved in water turns it a
beautiful blue. The common red cabbage gives three
colours. Slice the cabbage and pour boiling water on
it. When cold add a small quantity of alum, and you
have purple. Potash dissolved in the water will give a
brilliant green. A few drops of muriatic acid will turn
the cabbage water into crimson. Put these various col-
oured waters in globes, and with candles behind them
they will throw the light on the picture.

Again, if a ghastly look be required, and a ghost scene
be in order, mix common salt with spirits of wine in a

2/6 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

metal cup, and set it upon a wire frame over a spirit
lamp. When the cup becomes heated, and the spirits of
wine ignites, the other lights in the room should be ex-
tinguished, and that of the spirit lamp hidden from the
observer. A light will be produced that will make the
players seem like the witches in Macbeth, "that look
not like the inhabitants of the earth, but yet are of it."

The burning of common salt produces a very weird
effect j for salt has properties other than the conservative,
preserving, hospitable qualities which legend and the
daily needs of mankind have ascribed to it.

A very pretty effect for Christmas Eve may be made
by throwing these lights on the highly decorated tree.
A set of Christmas tableaux can be arranged, giving
groups of the early Christians going into the Catacombs
as the Pagans are goiog out, with a white shaft of light
making a cross between them. A picture representing
the Christmas of each nationality can be made, as for
instance the Russian, the Norwegian, the Dane, the
Swede, the German, the English of three hundred years
ago. These are all possible to a family in which are
artistic boys and girls.

The grotesque is lost in a tableau where there seems
to be an aesthetic need of the heroic, the refined, and the
historic. A double action may be represented with good
effect, and here can be used the coloured lights. Angels
above, for instance, can well be in another colour than
sleeping children below.

To return for a moment to the first use of the stage,
the play. It is a curious thing to see the plays which
amateurs act well. The " Rivals " is one of these, and
so is " Everybody's Friend." "The Follies of a Night "
plays itself, and "The Happy Pair" goes very well.

PRIVATE THEATRICALS. 277

" A Regular Fix," one of Sothern's plays, is exception-
ally funny, as is " The Liar," in which poor Lester
Wallack was so very good. " Woodcock's Little Game,"
too, is excellent.

Cheap and unsophisticated theatricals, such as school-
boys and girls can get up in the garret or the basement,
are those which give the most pleasure. But so strong
is the underlying love of the drama that youth and maid
will attempt the hard and sometimes discouraging work,
even in cities where professional work is so very much
better.

The private amateur player should study to be accu-
rate as to costume. Pink-satin Marie Antoinette slippers
must not be worn with a Greek dress; classic sandals
are easily made.

It is an admirable practice to get up a play in French.
It helps to conquer the delicatesse of the language. The
French 7'epe7'toire is very rich in easily acted plays, which
any French teacher can recommend.

Imitation Negro minstrels are funny, and apt to be
better than the original. A funny man, a mimic, one
who can talk in various dialects, is a precious boon to an
amateur company. Many of Dion Boucicault's Irish
characters can be admirably imitated.

In this connection, why not call in the transcendent
attraction of music? Now that we have lady orchestras,
why not have them on the stage, or let them be asked to
play occasional music between the acts, or while the
tableaux are on? It adds a great charm.

The family circle in which the brothers have learned
the key bugle, cornet, trombone, and violoncello, and the
sisters the piano and harp, and the family that can sing
part songs are to be envied. What a blessing in the

2/8 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

family is the man who can sing comic songs, and who
does not sing them too often.

A small operetta is often very nicely done by amateurs.
We need not refer to the lamented " Pinafore," but that
sort of thing. Would that Sir Arthur would write another
" Pinafore ! " but, alas ! there was never but one.

A private theatre is a great addition to a large country
house, and it can be made cheaply and well by a modern
architect. It can be used as a ballroom on off evenings,
as a dining-room, or for any other gathering.

Nothing can be more improving for young people
than to study a play. Observe the expressions of the
Oberammergau peasants, their intellectual and happy
faces, '• informed with thought," and contrast them with
the faces of the German and Bavarian peasants about
them. Their old pastor, Deisenberg, by training them
in poetry and declamation, by founding his well-written
play on their old traditions, by giving them this highly
improving recreation for their otherwise starved lives,
made another set of human beings of them. They have
a motive in life besides the mere gathering in of a
livehhood.

So it would be in any country neighbourhood, however
rustic and remote, if some bright woman would assemble
the young people at her house and train them to read
and recite, lifting their young souls above vulgar gossip,
and helping them to understand the older dramatists, to
even attempt Shakspeare. Funny plays might be thrown
in to enliven the scene, but there should be a good deal
of earnest work inculcated as well. Music, that most
divine of all the arts, should be assiduously cultivated.
All the Oberammergau school-masters must be musicians,
and all the peasants learn how to sing. What a good

PRIVATE THEATRICALS. 279

thing it would be if our district school-teachers should
learn how to teach their scholars part songs.

When the art of entertaining has reached its apotheo-
sis, we feel certain that we can have this influence eman-
ating from every opulent country house, and that there
will be no more complaint of dulness.

HUNTING AND SHOOTING.

My love shall hear the music of my hounds :
Uncouple in the western valley ; let them go, —
Dispatch, I say, and find the Forester.
We will, fair Queen, up to the mountain's top.

Midsummer Night's Dream.

FASHION is at her best when she makes men and
women love horses, dogs, boating, swimming, and
all out-of-door games, — when she preaches physical
culture. It is a good thing to see a man play lawn-tennis
under a hot sun for hours ; you feel that such a man
could storm a battery. Nothing is more encouraging to
the lover of all physical culture than the hunting, shoot-
ing, boating, and driving mania in the United States.

" Hunting " and " shooting " are sometimes used as sy-
nonymous terms in America ; in England they mean quite
different things. Hunting is riding to hounds without
firearms, letting the dogs kill the fox ; while shooting is to
tramp over field, mountain, and through forest with dogs
and gun, to kill deer, grouse, or partridge. The 12th
of August is the momentous day, the first of the grouse
shooting. Every one who can afford it, or who has a
friend who can afford it, is off for the moors on the nth,
hoping to fill his bag. The ist of September, partridge,
and the ist of October, pheasant shooting, are gala days,
and the man is little thought of who cannot handle a
gun.

Hunting and shooting. 2S1

In August inveterate fox-hunters meet at four or five
o'clock in the morning for cub-hunting, which amuse-
ment is over by eleven or twelve. As the winter comes
on the real hunting begins, and lasts until late in March.
In the midland counties it is the special sport. Melton,
in Leicestershire, is a noted hunting rendezvous. People,
many Americans among them, take boxes there for the
season, with large stables, and beguile the evenings with
dinners, dancing, and card-parties. It is a sort of winter
watering-place without any water, where the wine flows
in streams every night, and where the brandy flask is
filled every morning, " in case of accidents '' while out
with the hounds. An enthusiast in riding can be in the
saddle ten or twelve hours out of every day, except
Sunday, which is a dull day at Melton.

All the houses within such a neighbourhood are suc-
cessively made the rendezvous or meet of the hunt.
People come from great distances and send their horses
by rail ; others drive or ride in, and send their valuable
hunters by a groom, who walks them the whole way. The
show of " pink" is generally good. " Pink " means the
scarlet hunting-coat worn by the gentlemen, the whippers-
in, etc. The weather fades these coats to a pale pink
very much esteemed by the older men. They suggest
the scars of a veteran warrior, hence the name. Some
men hunt in black, but always in top boots. These
boots are a cardinal point in a sportsman's dandyism.

Once or twice during the season a hunt breakfast is
given in the house where the meet takes place. This is
a pretty scene. All sorts of neat broughams, dog-carts,
and old family chariots bring the ladies, who wear as
much scarlet as good taste will allow.

Ladies, with their children, come to these breakfasts,

282 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

which are sumptuous affairs. Great rounds of cold beef,
game patties, and salads are spread out. All sorts of
drinks, from beer up to champagne, are offered. One
of the ladies of the house sits at the head of the table,
with a large antique silver urn before her, and with tea
and coffee ready for those who wish these beverages.

Some girls come on horseback, and look very pretty in
their habits. These Dianas cut slices of beef and make
impromptu sandwiches for their friends outside who
have not dismounted. The daughters of the house
stand on the steps while liveried servants hand around
cake and wine, and others carry foaming tankards of ale,
and liberal slices of cheese, among the farmers and at-
tendants of the kennel.

It is an in-door and an out-door feast. The hounds
are gathered in a group, the huntsman standing in the
centre cracking his whip, and calling each hound by his
name. Two or three masters of neighbouring packs are
talking to the master of the hounds, a prominent gentle-
man of the county, who holds fox-hunting as something
sacred, and the killing of a fox otherwise than in a legiti-
mate manner as one of the seven deadly sins.

Twelve o'clock strikes, and every one begins to move.
Generally the throw off is at eleven, but in honour of this
breakfast a delay has been allowed. The huntsman
mounts his horse and blows his horn ; the hounds gather
around him, and the whole field starts out. They are
going to draw the covers at some large plantation above
the park. The earths, or fox-holes, have been stopped for
miles around, so that the fox once started has no refuge
to make for, and is compelled to give the horses a run.
It is a fine, manly sport, for with all the odds against
him, the fox often gets away.

HUNTING AND SHOOTING. 28

It is a pretty sight. The hounds go first, with nose to
the ground, searching for the scent. The hunters and
whippers-in, professional sportsmen, in scarlet coats and
velvet jockey caps, ride immediately next to them, fol-
lowed by the field. In a litde while a confusion of
rumours and cries is heard in the wood, various calls are
blown on the horn, and the frequent cracking of high
whips, which sound is used to keep the hounds in order,
has all the effect of a succession of pistol shots. Hark !
the fox has broken cover, and a repeated cry of " Tally
Ho ! " bursts from the wood. Away go the hounds, full
cry, and what sportsmen call their music, something be-
tween a bay and a yelp, is indeed a pleasant sound,
heard as it always is under circumstances calculated to
give it a romantic character. Many ladies and small
boys are amongst the followers of the chase. As soon
as a boy can sit on his pony he begins to follow the
hounds. A fox has no tail and no feet in hunting par-
lance, he has only a brush and pads. The lady who is
in at the death receives the brush, and the man the pads,
as a rule.

The hunt is a privileged institution in England, and
can make gaps in hedges and break down walls with im-
punity. The farmer never complains if his wheat and
turnip fields are ruined by the sport, nor does a lady
complain if her flower garden and ornamental arbour be
laid in ruins. The wily fox who has made such a skilful
run must be followed at any cost.

Shooting is, however, the favourite sport of all English-
men. Both pheasants and partridges are first carefully
reared ; the eggs generally purchased in large quantities,
hatched by hens, and the birds fed through the summer
with meal and other appropriate food. The game-

284 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

keepers take the greatest pride in the rearing of these
birds. The pheasant is to the EngUshman what the
ibis was to the Egyptian.

They are let loose in the woods only when nearly full-
grown. When the covers are full, and a good bag is to
be expected, the first of October is a regular feast-day ; a
large party is asked, and a variety of costumes makes the
scene picturesque. Red or purple stockings, knicker-
bockers of stout cloth or velveteen, a shooting-jacket of
rough heavy material, and stout shoes make up the
costume. The ladies collect after breakfast to see the
party start out, a rendezvous is agreed upon, and
luncheon or tea brings them together at either two or
five o'clock, under a sheltering hedge on the side of a
wood. The materials for an ample meal are brought
to the appointed place, and a gay picnic ensues.

Though shooting is a sport in which more real per-
sonal work is done by those who join in it, and in which
skill is a real ingredient, still it is neither so character-
istic nor so picturesque as fox-hunting. There, a firm
seat in the saddle, a good horse, and a determination
to ride straight across country, are all that is needed for
the majority of the field. In shooting much patience is
required, besides accuracy of aim, and a judicious know-
ledge of when and how to shoot.

When we consider that hunting is the fashion which
Americans are trying to follow, in a country without
foxes, we must concede that success must be the result
of considerable hard study. The fox is an anise-seed
bag, but stone walls and high rail fences often make a
stiffer country to ride over than any to be found abroad.
In England there are no fences.

As an addition to the art of entertaining, hunting is a

HUNTING AND SHOOTING. 285

very great boon, and a hunt breakfast at the Westchester
Hunting Club is as pretty a sight as possible.

In America, the sport began in Virginia in the last
century, and no doubt in our great West and South it will
some day become as recognized an institution as in
England. We have room enough for it, too much per-
haps. Shooting should become, from the Adirondacks
to the Mississippi, a recognized sport, as it was once a
necessity. If Americans could devote five months of
the year to sport, as the Englishmen do, they might
rival Great Britain. Unfortunately, Americans are bring-
ing down other kinds of game. We cannot help think-
ing, however, that shooting a buck in the Adirondacks
is a more manly sport than shooting one in England.

No one who has ever had the privilege will forget
his first drive through the delights of an English park.
The herds of fallow deer that haunt the ferny glades
beneath the old oaks and beeches, are kept both for
show and for the table ; for park-fed venison is a more
delicious morsel than the flesh of the Scotch red deer,
that runs wild on the moor. White, brown, and mottled,
with branching antlers which serve admirably for offen-
sive and defensive weapons, the deer browse in groups ;
the does and fawns generally keeping apart from the
more lordly bucks. The park-keeper knows them all,
and when one is shot, the hides, hoofs, and antlers be-
come his perquisites.

The method of shooting a buck is, however, this : The
keeper's assistant drives the herd in a certain direction
previously agreed upon. The sight is a very pretty one.
The keeper stations himself, rifle in hand, in the fork of
some convenient tree along the route. He takes aim at
the intended victim, and at the ominous report the

286 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

scared herd scampers away faster than ever, leaving their
comrade to the knives of the keeper. It is very much
Uke going out to shoot a cow. There is occasionally an
attempt to renew the scenes of Robin Hood and Sher-
wood Forest, and the hounds are let out, but it is a
sham after all, as they are trained not to kill the deer.
The stag in this instance is given a start, being carried
bound in a cart to a certain point, whence he is released
and the chase commences. Thus the same stag may be
hunted a number of times and be none the worse for it,
— which is not the way they do it in the Adirondacks.

American venison is a higher flavoured meat than
Enghsh, and should be only partly roasted before the
fire, then cut in slices half-raw, placed on a chafing-dish
with jelly and gravy, and warmed and cooked before the
guest to ensure perfection.

A Polish officer of distinction has sent me the follow-
ing account of hunting in his province : —

" We do not hunt the fox as in England. He is shot
when met in a drive, or worried out of his subterranean
castle by a special breed of dogs, the Dachshund, or
Texel ; or if young cubs are suspected to be in the hole
the exits so far as known are closed, a shaft sunk to the
centre, and the whole brood extinguished.

" We ride to hounds after hare, and the speed of a
fox-hunt is nothing when compared with a cruise of the
hare ; for the greyhound, used for the latter, can beat
any fox hound in racing. No one would ever think
of water-killing deer as is done in the Adirondacks, and
woe unto him who kills a doe !

" The old-fashioned way to kill the wild boar is to let
him run at you, then kneel on one knee holding a hunt-
ing knife, or cutlass, double-edged. The boar infuriate4

HUNTING AND SHOOTING. 287

by the dogs rushes at you. If well directed, the knife
enters his breast and heart ; if it does not, then look out.
This is what is called pig-sticking in India. Old Em-
peror William hunted the boar in the Royal Forests near
Berlin, and King Humbert does the same in the moun-
tains near Rome.

" Bird hunting, that of snipe, woodcock, partridge,
quail, and waterfowl, is done in the same way as here,
excepting the use of duck batteries.

" There is very little big game to be found in Europe,
that is, in the civilized parts of* it, but in some forests
belonging to royalty and that ilk, the elk, the stag, the
bear, and the wild boar, present themselves as a target,
and bison are to be found in Russia. The elk is purely
royal game in Prussia.

" Southern or Upper Silesia is called the Prussian
Ireland, and was famous for hunting-parties; ladies
would join, and we would drive home with lighted
torches attached to our sleighs."

These accounts of hunting-parties are introduced into
the Art of Entertaining as they each and all contain
hints which may be of use to the future American
entertainer.

THE GAME OF GOLF.

AS an addition to one's power of entertaining one's self,
" golf affords a wide field of observation for the
philosopher and the student of human nature. To play
it aright requires nerve, endurance, and self-control,
qualities which are essential to success in all great voca-
tions ; on the other hand, golf is peculiarly trying to the
temper, although it must be said that when the golfer
forgets himself his outbursts are usually directed against
inanimate objects, or showered upon his own head."
How it may take possession of one is well described in
this little poem from the " St. James Gazette : " —

" Would you like to see a city given over,
Soul and body, to a tyrannizing game ?
If you would, there 's little need to be a rover,
For St. Andrews is that abject city's name.

" It is surely quite superfluous to mention,

To a person who has been here half an hour,
That Golf is what engrosses the attention
Of the people, with an all-absorbing power.

" Rich and poor alike are smitten with the fever;
'T is their business and religion both to play ;
And a man is scarcely deemed a true believer
Unless he goes at least a round a day.

" The city boasts an old and learned college.

Where you 'd think the leading industry was Greek ;
Even there the favoured instruments of knowledge
Are a driver, and a putter, and a cleek.

THE GAME OF GOLF. 289

" All the natives and the residents are patrons
Of this royal, ancient, irritating game ;
All the old men, all the young men, maids and matrons,
With this passion burn in hard and gem-like flame.

" In the morning, as the light grows strong and stronger,
You may see the players going out in shoals ;
And when night forbids their playing any longer.
They will tell you how they did the different holes.

" Golf, golf, golf, and golf again, is all the story !
Till despair my overburdened spirit sinks ;
Till I wish that every golfer was in glory,
And I pray the sea may overflow the links.

" Still a slender, struggling ray of consolation
Comes to cheer me, very feeble though it be ;
There are two who still escape infatuation.

One 's my bosom friend McFoozle, t'other 's me.

" As I write the words McFoozle enters blushing,
With a brassy and an iron in his hand ;
And this blow, so unexpected and so crushing,
Is more than I am able to withstand.

" So now it but remains for me to die, sir.

Stay ! There is another course I may pursue.
And perhaps, upon the whole, it would be wiser,
I will yield to fate and be a golfer, too ! "

''The game of golf," says Andrew Lang, its gifted
poet and its historian, " has been described as putting
little balls into holes difficult to find, with instruments
which are sadly inadequate and illy adapted to the
purpose." Its learned home is St. Andrews, in Scotland,
although its advocates give it several classic starting-
points. Learned antiquarians seem to think that the
name comes from a Celtic word, meaning club. It is
certainly an ancient game, and some variation of it was
known on the Continent under various names.

19

290 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

The game requires room. A golf-course of nine holes
should be at least a mile and a half long, and a hundred
and twenty feet wide. It is usual to so lay out the
course that the player ends where he began. All sorts
of obstructions are left, or made artificially, — running
water, railway embankments, bushes, ditches, etc.

The game is played with a gutta-percha ball, about an
inch and a quarter in diameter, and a variety of clubs,
with wooden or iron heads, whose individual use depends
on the position in which the ball lies. It is usual for
each player to be followed by a boy, who carries his clubs
and watches his ball, marking it down as it falls. Games
are either singles, — that is, when two persons play
against one another, each having a ball, — or fours, when
there are two on each side, partners playing alternately
on one ball.

The start is made near the club house at a place called
the tee. Down the course, anywhere from two hundred
and fifty to five hunared yards distant, is a level space,
fifty feet square, called a putting-green, and in its centre
is a hole about four and a half inches in diameter and of
the same depth. This is the first hole, and the contest-
ant who puts his ball into it in the fewest number of
strokes wins the hole. As the score is kept by strokes,
the ball that is behind is played first. In this way the
players are always together.

For his first shot from the tee, the player uses a club
called the driver. It has a wooden head and a long,
springy, hickory handle. With this an expert will drive
a ball for two hundred yards. It is needless to say that
the beginner is not so successful. After the first shot a
cleek is used ; or if the ball is in a bad hole, a mashie ;
if it is necessary to loft it, an iron, and so on, — the par-

THE GAME OF GOLF. 29 1

ticular club depending, as we have said, on the position
in which the ball lies.

The first hole won, the contestants start from a teeing-
ground close by it, and fight for the second hole, and so
on around the course, — the one who has won the most
holes being the winner.

" A fine day, a good match, and a clear green " is the
paradise of the golfer, but it still can be played all the
year and even, by the use of a red ball, when snow is on
the ground. In Scotland and athletic England it is a
game for players of all ages, though in nearly all clubs
children are not allowed. It can be played by both
sexes.

A beginner's inclination is to grasp a golf club as he
would a cricket bat, more firmly with the right hand
than with the left, or at times equally firm with both
hands. Now in golf, in making a full drive, the club
when brought back must be held firmly with the left
hand and more loosely with the right, because when the
club is raised above the shoulder, and brought round the
back of the neck, the grasp of one hand or the other
must relax, and the hand to give way must be the right
hand and not the left. The force of the club must be
brought squarely against the ball.

The keeping of one's balance is another difficulty.
In preparing to strike, the player bends forward a little.
In drawing back his club he raises, or should raise, his
left heel from the ground, and at the end of the upward
swing stands poised on his right foot and the toe or ball
of the left foot. At this point there is danger of his los-
ing his balance, and as he brings the club down, falling
either forward or backward, and consequently either
heeling or toeing the ball, instead of hitting it with the

2^2 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

middle of the face. Accuracy of hitting depends
greatly on keeping a firm and steady hold of the ground
with the toe of the left foot, and not bending the left
knee too much.

To " keep your eye on the ball " sounds an injunction
easy to be obeyed, but it is not always so. In making
any considerable stroke, the player's body makes or
should make a quarter turn, and the difficulty is to keep
the head steady and the eye fixed upon the ball while
doing this.

Like all other games, golf has its technical terms ; the
^' teeing-ground," ^^ putting," the "high-lofting stroke,"
the " approach shot," " hammer- hurhng," " topping,"
"slicing," "hooking," "skidding," and "foozling"
mean little to the uninitiated, but everything to the
golfer.

Let us copy verbati7n the following description of the
Links of St. Andrews, the Elysium of the braw Scots :

" The Links occupy a crook-necked stretch of land
bordered on the east by the sea and on the left by the
railway and by the wide estuary of the Eden. The
course, out and in, is some two miles and a half in
length, allowing for the pursuit of balls not driven quite
straight. Few pieces of land have given so much inex-
pensive pleasure for centuries. The first hole is to some
extent carpeted by grass rather longer and rougher than
the rest of the links. On the left lie some new houses
and a big hotel j they can only be ' hazards ' on the
outward tack to a very wild driver indeed."

These "hazards" mean, dear reader, that if you and
I are stopping at that big hotel, we may have our eyes
put out by a passing ball ; small grief would that be to a
golfer !

THE GAME OF GOLF. 293

'* On the right it is just possible to * heel ' the ball
over heaps of rubbish into the sea sand. The natural
and orthodox hazards are few. Everybody should clear
the road from the tee ; if he does not the ruts are tena-
cious. The second shot should either cross or fall short
of the celebrated Swilcan Burn. This tributary of ocean
is extremely shallow, and meanders through stone em-
bankments, hither and thither, between the tee and the
hole. The number of balls that run into it, or jump in
from the opposite bank, or oif the old stone footbridge
is enormous ! People * funk ' the burn, top their iron
shots, and are engulfed. Once you cross it, the hole
whether to right or left is easily approached.

" The second hole, when the course is on the left, is
guarded near the tee by the ' Scholar's Bunker,' a sand
face which swallows a topped ball. On the right of the
course are whins, much scantier now than of old ; on the
left you may get into long grass, and thence into a very
sandy road under a wall, a nasty lie. The hole is senti-
nelled by two bunkers and many an approach lights in
one or the other. The putting-green is nubbly and
difficult.

" Driving to the third hole, on the left you may alight
in the railway, or a straight hit may tumble into one of
three little bunkers, in a knoll styled ' the Principal's
Nose.' There are more bunkers lying in wait close to
the putting-green.

" The driver to the fourth hole has to * carry ' some
low hills and mounds ; then comes a bunker that yawns
almost across the course, with a small outpost named
Sutherlands, which Englishmen profanely desired to fill
up. This is impious.

"The long bunker has a buttress, a disagreeable

/

/

294 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING. /

round knoll ; from this to the hole is open country if you
keep to the right, but it is whinny. On the left,
bunkers and broken ground stretch, and there is a con-
venient sepulchre of hope here, and another beyond the
hole.

'* As you drive to the fifth hole you may have to clear
* hell,' but ' hell ' is not what it was. The first shot
should carry you to the broken spurs of a table land, the
Elysian fields, in which there yawn the Beardies, deep,
narrow, greedy bunkers. Beyond the table land there is
a gorge, and beyond it again a beautiful stretch of land
and the putting-green. To the right is plenty of deep
bent grass and gorse. This is a long hole and full of
difficulties, the left side near the hole being guarded by
irregular and dangerous bunkers.

"The sixth or heathery hole has lost most of its
heather, but is a teaser. A heeled ball from the tee
drops into the worst whins of the course in a chaos of
steep, difficult hills. A straight ball topped falls into
' Walkinshaw's Grave,' or if very badly topped into a
little spiteful pitfall ; it is the usual receptacle of a well-
hit second ball on its return journey. Escaping * Wal-
kinshaw's Grave ' you have a stretch of very rugged and
broken country, bunkers on the left, bent grass on the
right, before you reach the sixth hole.

"The next, the high hole, is often shifted. It is
usually placed between a network of bunkers with rough
grass immediately beyond it. The first shot should open
the hole and let you see the uncomfortable district into
which you have to play. You may approach from the
left, nmning the ball up a narrow causeway between the
bunkers, but it is usually attempted from the front.
Grief, in any case, is almost unavoidable."

THE GAME OF GOLF. 295

It is evident the Scotch pleasure in " contradeectin' "
s emphasized in golf.

One gets a wholesome sense of invigorating sea air,
healthy exercise, and that delightful smell of the short,
fresh grass. One sees " the beauty of the wild aerial
landscape, the delicate tints of sand, and low, far-off
hills, the distant crest of Lochnager, the gleaming estu-
ary, and the black cluster of ruined towers above the
bay, which make the charm of St. Andrews Links."

Golf has come to our country, and is becoming a
passion. There is a club at Yonkers and one at Cedar-
hurst, but that on the Shinnecock Hills, on Long Island,
will probably be the great headquarters of golf in the
United States, as this club owns eighty acres beautifully
adapted to the uses of the game, and has a large club-
house, designed by Stanford White.

So we may expect an American historian to write an
account of this fine vigorous game, in some future
Badminton Library of sports and pastimes ; and we shall
have our own dear " fifth hole, which offers every possi-
ble facility to the erratic driver for coming to grief," if
we can be as " contradeectin' " as a Scot. You never
hear one word about victory ; this golf literature is all
written in the minor key, — but it is a gay thing to
look at.

The regular golf uniform is a red jacket, which adds
much to the gayety of a green, and has its obvious
advantages.

"Ladies' links should be laid out on the model,
though on a smaller scale, of the long round, containing
some short putting- holes, some larger holes admitting of
a drive or two of seventy or eighty yards, and a few
suitable hazards. We venture to suggest seventy or

296 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

eighty yards as the average Umit of a drive, advisedly
not because we doubt a lady's power to make a longer
drive, but because that cannot be well done without
raising the club above the shoulder. Now we do not
presume to dictate, but we must observe that the posture
and gestures requisite for a full swing are not particularly
graceful when the player is clad in female dress.

" Most ladies put well, and all the better because they
play boldly for the hole, without considering too much
the lay of the ground ; and there is no reason why they
should not practise and excel in wrist shots with a lofting-
iron or cleek. Their right to play, or rather the expedi-
ency of their playing, the long round is much more
doubtful. If they choose to play at times when the male
golfers are feeding or resting, no one can object ; but at
other times, must we say it? they are in the way, just
because gallantry forbids to treat them exactly as men.
The tender mercies of the golfer are cruel. He cannot
afford to be merciful, because, if he forbears to drive into
the party in front he is promptly driven into from
behind. It is a hard lot to follow a party of ladies with
a powerful driver behind you, if you are troubled with a
spark of chivalry or shyness.

" As to the ladies playing the long round with men as
their partners, it may be sufficient to say, in the words of
a promising young player who found it hard to decide
between flirtation and playing the game, ' It is mighty
pleasant, but it is not business.' "

To learn this difficult game requires months of prac-
tice, and great nerve and talent for it. I shall not
attempt to define what is meant by " dormy," " divot,"
"foozle," "gobble," ''grip," or "gully." '' Mashy, a
straight-faced niblich," is one of these definitions.

THE GAME OF GOLF. 297

Horace G. Hutchinson's book on golf is a most en-
tertaining work, — if for no other reason than that its
humour, the pleasant out-of-door atmosphere, the true
enthusiasm for the game, and the illustrations, which are
very well drawn, all make it an addition to one's knowl-
edge of athletic sports.

That golf has taken its place amongst the arts of en-
tertaining, we have no better proof than the very nice de-
scription of it in Norris's novel of " Marcia." This clever
writer introduces a scene where " Lady Evelyn backs
the winner " in the following sprightly manner : —

" Not many years ago all golfers who dwelt south of
the Tweed were compelled, when speaking of their
favourite relaxation, to take up an apologetic tone ; they
had to explain with humility, and with the chilling
certainty of being disbelieved, that an immense amount
of experience, dexterity, and self-command are requisite
in order to make sure of hitting a little ball across five
hundred yards of broken ground, and depositing it in a
small hole in four or five strokes ; but now that golf links
have been established all over England there is no
longer any need to make excuses for one of the finest
games that human ingenuity or the accident of circum-
stances have ever called into existence. The theory of
the game is simplicity itself, — you have only to put your
ball into a hole in one or less strokes than your oppo-
nent ; but the practice is full of difficulty, and what is
better still, full of endless variety, so that you may go on
playing golf from the age of eight to that of eighty, and
yet never grow tired of it. Indeed, the circumstance
that gray- haired enthusiasts are to be seen enjoying
themselves thoroughly, and losing their tempers ludi-
crously, wherever ' the royal and ancient sport ' has

298 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

taken root, has caused certain ignorant persons to de-
scribe golf contemptuously as the old gentleman's game.
Such criticisms, however, come only from those who
have not attempted to acquire the game."

We advise all incipient golfers to read " Marcia," and to
see how well golf and love-making can go together.

Golf has its poetic and humoristic literature ; and as
we began with its poetic side we may end with its broad-
est, latest joke : —

Two well-known professional golfers were playing a
match. We will call them Sandy and Jock. On one
side of the golf course was a railway, over which Jock
drove his ball, landing it in some long grass. They both
hunted for a long while for the missing ball. Sandy
wanted Jock to give in and say that the ball was lost ;
but Jock would not consent, as a lost ball meant a lost
hole. They continued to look round, and Jock slyly
dropped another ball, and then came back and cried,
" I Ve found the ba', Sandy."

"Ye 're a leear," said Sandy, "for here it's in ma
pooch."

We commend also " Famous Golf Links," by Hutchin-
son as clear and agreeable reading.

OF GAMES.

Come, thou complaisant cards, and cheat me
Of a bad night, and miserable dreams.

Shakspeare.

'T is pleasant, through the loopholes of retreat,
To peep at such a world, — to see the stir
Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd.

COWPER.

THERE is no amusement for a town or country-
house, where people Hke to stay at home, so per-
fectly innocent and amusing as games which require a
little brain.

It is a delightful feature of our modern civilization
that books are cheap, and that the poets are read by every
one. That would be a barren house where we did not
find Scott, Byron, Goldsmith, Longfellow, Tennyson,
Browning, Bret Harte, and Jean Ingelow.

Therefore, there would be little embarrassment should
we ask the members of the circle around the evening
lamp to write a parody on ^' Evangeline," " Lady Clara
Vere de Vere," " Herve Riel," or "The Heathen
Chinee." The result is amusing.

Amongst games requiring memory and attention, we
may mention Cross Purposes, The Horned Ambassador,
I Love my Love with an A, the Game of the Ring, which
is arithmetical, The Deaf Man, The Goose's History,
Story Play, which consists in putting a word into a nar-

300 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

rative so cleverly that it will not readily be guessed, al-
though several may tell different stories with the word re-
peated. The best way to play this is to have some word
which is not the word, like " ambassador," if the word be
" banana " for instance, so by thus repeating '^ ambassa-
dor " the Hstener may be baffled. The Dutch Conceit,
My Lady's Toilette, Scheherazade's Ransom are also very
good. This last deserves a description. Three of the
company sustain the parts of the Sultan, the Vizier, and
the Princess. The Sultan takes his seat at the end of
the room, and the Vizier then leads the Princess before
him with her hands bound behind her. The Vizier then
makes an absurd proclamation that the Princess, having
exhausted all her stories is about to be punished, unless
a sufficient ransom be offered. All the rest of the com-
pany then advance in turn, and propose enigmas which
must be solved by the Sultan or Vizier; sing the
first verse of a song, to which the Vizier must answer
with the second verse ; or recite any well-known piece
of poetry in alternate lines with the Vizier. Forfeits
must be paid, either by the company when successfully
encountered by the Sultan and Vizier, or by the Vizier
when unable to respond to his opponents ; and the game
goes on till the forfeits amount to any specified number
on either side. Should the company be victorious and
obtain the greater number of forfeits, the Princess is re-
leased and the Vizier has to execute all the penalties that
may be imposed upon him. If otherwise, the Princess
is led to execution. For this purpose she is seated on
a low stool. The penalties for the forfeits, which should
be previously prepared, are written on slips of paper
and put in a basket, which she holds in her hands,
tied behind her. The owners of the forfeits advance,

OF GAMES. 301

and draw each a slip of paper. As each person comes
forward the Princess guesses who it is, and if right, the
person must pay an additional forfeit, the penalty for
which is to be exacted by the Princess herself. When
all the penalties have been distributed, the hands and
eyes of the Princess are released, and she then superin-
tends the execution of the various punishments that have
been allotted to the company.

Another very good game is to send one of the com-
pany out, and as he comes in again to address him in
the supposed character of General Scott, the Duke of
Wellington, or of some Shakspearean hero. This,
amongst bright people, can be very amusing. The
hero thus addressed must find out who he is himself, —
a difficult task for any one to discover, even with leading
questions.

The Echo is another nice little game. It is played by
reciting some story, which Echo is supposed to inter-
rupt whenever the narrator pronounces certain words
which recur frequently in his narrative. These words
relate to the profession or trade of him who is the sub-
ject of the story. If, for example, the story is about a
soldier the words which would recur most frequently
would naturally be uniform, gaiters, chapeaii bras, mus-
ket, plume, pouch, sword, sabre, gun, knapsack, belt, sash,
cap, powder-flask, accoutrements, and so on. Each one
of the company, with the exception of the person who
tells the story, takes the name of soldier, powder-flask,
etc., except the name accoutrements. When the speaker
pronounces one of these words, he who has taken it for
his name, ought, if the word has been said only once, to
pronounce it twice; if it has been said twice, to pro-
nounce it once. When the word "accoutrements" is

302 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

uttered the players, all except the soldier, ought to repeat
the word " accoutrements " either once or twice.

These games are amusing, as showing how defective
a thing is memory, how apt it is to desert us under fire.
It is very interesting to mark the difference of character
exhibited by the players.

Another very funny game is Confession by a Die,
played with cards and dice. It would look at first like
a parody on Mother Church, but it does not so offend. A
person takes some blank cards, and counting the com-
pany, writes down a sin for each. The unlucky sinner
when called upon must not only confess, but, by throw-
ing the dice, also confess as many sins as they indicate,
and do penance for them all. These can, with a witty
leader, be made very amusing.

The Secretary is another good game. The players sit
at a table with square pieces of paper and pencils, and
each one writes his own name, handing the paper, care-
fully folded down, to the secretary, who distributes them,
saying, " Character." Then each one writes out an
imaginary character, hands it to the secretary, who says,
"Future." The papers are again distributed, and the
writers forecast the future. Of course the secretary
throws in all sorts of other questions, and when the
game is through, the papers are read. They form a
curious and heterogeneous piece of reading ; sometimes
such curious bits of character-reading crop out that
one suspects complicity. But if honestly played it is
amusing.

The Traveller's Tour is interesting. One of the party
announces himself as the traveller. He is given an
empty bag, and counters, with numbers on, are distrib-
uted amongst the players. Thus if twelve persons are

OF GAMES. 303

playing the numbers must count up to twelve, — a set of
ones to be given to one, twos to two, and so on. Then
the traveller asks for information about the places to
which he is going. The first person gives it if he can ;
if not, the second, and so on. If the traveller considers
it correct information or worthy of notice he takes from
the person one of his counters as a pledge of the obliga-
tion he is under to him. The next person in order
takes up the next question, and so on. After the trav-
eller reaches his destination he empties his bag and sees
to whom he has been indebted for the greatest amount
of information. He then makes him the next traveller.
Of course this opens the door for all sorts of witty
rejoinders, according as the players choose to exaggerate
the claims of certain hotels, and to invent hits at certain
watering-places.

The rhyming game is amusing. " I have a word that
rhymes with game."

Literlocufor. — " Is it something statesmen crave? "

Speaker. — " No, it is not fame."

Interlocutor. — " Is it something that goes halt? "

Speaker. — " No, it is not lame."

Interlocutor. — " Is it something tigers need? "

Speaker. — " No, it is not to tame."

Interlocutor. — " Is it something we all would Uke ? "

Speaker. — " No, it is not a good name."

hiterlocutor, — " Is it to shoot at duck? "

Speaker. — "Yes, and that duck to maim."
Such words as "nut," "thing," "fall," etc., which rhyme
easily, are good choices. The two who play it must be
quick-witted.

The game of Crambo, in which each player has to
write a noun on one piece of paper, and a question on

304 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

another, is curious. As, for instance, the drawer gets the
word " Africa " and the question ^' Have you an invitation
to my wedding?" He must write a poem in which he
answers the question and brings in the other word.

The game of Preferences has had a long and success-
ful career. It is a very good addition to the furniture
of a country parlour to possess a blank-book which is
left lying on the table, in which each guest should be
asked to write out answers to the following questions :

Who is your favourite hero in history?

Who is your favourite heroine ?

Who is your favourite king?

Who is your favourite queen?

What is your favourite Christian name for a man?

What is your favourite Christian name for a woman?
etc.

The game of Authors, especially when created by the
persons who wish to play it, is very interesting. The
game can be bought and is a very common one, as per-
haps every one knows, but it can be rendered uncommon
by the preparation of the cards among the members of
the family. There are sixty-four cards to be prepared,
each bearing the name of a favourite author and any
three of his works. The entire set is numbered from
one to sixty- four. Any four cards containing the name
and works of the same author form a book.

Or the names of kings and queens and the learned
men of their reigns may be used, instead of authors ; it
is a very good way to study history. The popes can be
utihzed, with their attendant great men, and after play-
ing the game for a season one has no difficulty in fixing
the environment of the history of an epoch.

As the numbers affixed to the cards may be purely

OF GAMES. 305

arbitrary, the count at the end will fluctuate with great
impartiality. The Dickens cards may count but one,
while Tupper will be named sixteen. Carlyle will only
count two, while Artemas Ward will be sixty. King
Henry VIIL, who set no small store by himself, may be
No. I in the kingly game, while Edward IV. will be
allowed a higher numeral than he was allotted in life.

Now we come to a game which interests old and
young. None are so apathetic but they relish a peep
behind the dark curtain. The apple-paring in the fire,
the roasted chestnut and the raisin, the fire-back and
the stars, have been interrogated since time began. The
pack of cards, the teacup, the dream-book, the board
with mystic numbers, the Bible and key, have been con-
sulted from time immemorial. The makers of games
have given in their statistics, and they declare there are
no games so popular as those which foretell the future.

Now this tampering with gruesome things which may
lead to bad dreams is not recommended, but so long as
it is done for fun and an evening's amusement it is not
at all dangerous. The riches which are hidden in a pack
of fortune-telling cards are very comforting while they
last. They are endless, they are not taxed, they have
few really trying responsibilities attached, they bring no
beggars. They buy all we want, they are gained without
headache or backache, they are inherited without stain,
and lost without regret. Of what other fortune can we
say so much?

Who is not glad to find a four-leaved clover, to see the
moon over his right shoulder, to have a black cat come
to the house ? She is sure to bring good fortune !

The French have, however, tabularized fortune-telling
for us. Their pecuHar ability in arranging ceremonials

20

306 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

and fetes, and their undoubted genius for tactics and
strategy, show that they might be able to foresee events.
Their ingenuity, in all technical contrivances, is an
additional testimony in the right direction, and we are
not surprised that they have here, as is their wont, given
us the practical help which we need in fortune-telling.

Mademoiselle Lenormand, the sorceress who foretold
Napoleon's greatness and to many of the great people
of France their downfall and misfortunes, has left us
thirty-six cards in which we can read the decrees of fate.
Lenormand was a clever sybil. She knew how to mix
things, and throw in the inevitable bad and the possible
good so as at least to amuse those who consulted her.

In this game, which can be bought at any bookstore,
the cavalier, for instance, is a messenger of good fortune,
the clover leaf a harbinger of good news, but if sur-
rounded by clouds it indicates great pain, but if No. 2
lies near No. 26 or 28 the pain will be of short duration,
and so on.

Thus Mile. Lenormand tells fortunes still, although
she has gone to the land of certainty, and has herself
found out whether her symbols and emblems and her
combinations really did draw aside the curtain of the
future with invisible strings. Amateur sybils playing
this game can be sure that they add to the art of
entertaining.

The cup of tea, and the mysterious wanderings of the
grounds around the cup, is used for divination by the old
crone in an English farmhouse, while the Spanish gypsy
uses chocolate grounds for the same purpose. That
most interesting of tragic sybils. Noma of the Fitful
Head, used molten lead.

Cards from the earliest antiquity have been used to

OF GAMES. 307

tell fortunes. Fortuna, courted by all nations, was in
Greek Tyche, or the goddess of chance. She differed
from Destiny, or Fate, in so far as that she worked with-
out law, giving or taking at her own good pleasure. Her
symbols were those of mutability, a ball, a wheel, a pair
of wings, a rudder. The Romans affirmed that when
she entered their city she threw off her wings and shoes,
determined to live with them forever. She seems to
have thought better of it, however. She was the sister of
the Parcae, or Fates, those three who spin the thread of
life, measure it, and cut it off. The power to tell fortunes
by the hand is easily learned from Desbarolles' book, is
a very popular accomplishment, and never fails to amuse
the company and interest the mdividual.

It must not be made, however, of too much impor-
tance. It never amuses people to be warned that they
may expect an early and violent death.

Then comes Merelles, or Blind Men's Morris, which
can be played on a board or on the ground, but which
now finds itself reduced to a parlour game. This takes
two players. American Bagatelle can be played alone or
with an antagonist. Chinese puzzles, which are infi-
nitely amusing, and all the great family of the Sphinx,
known as puzzles, are of infinite service to the retired,
the invalid, and weary people for whom the active busi-
ness of life is at an end.

We may describe one of these games as an example.
It is called The Blind Abbot and his Monks. It is
played with counters. Arrange eight external cells of a
square so that there may be always nine in each row,
though the whole number may vary from eighteen to
thirty-six. A convent in which there were nine cells
was occupied by a blind abbot and twenty-four monks,

308 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

the abbot lodging in the centre cell and the monks in
the side cells, three in each, giving a row of nine persons
on each side of the building. The abbot suspecting the
fidelity of his brethren often went out at night and
counted them. When he found nine in each row, the
old man counted his beads, said an Ave, and went to
bed contented. The monks, taking advantage of his
failing sight, contrived to deceive him, so that four could
go out at night, yet have nine in a row. How did they
do it?

The next night, emboldened by success, the monks
returned with four visitors, and then arranged them nine
in a row. The next night they brought in four more be-
lated brethren, and again arranged them nine in a row,
and again four more. Finally, when the twelve clandes-
tine monks had departed, and six monks with them, the
remainder deceived the abbot again by presenting a row
of nine. Try it with the counters, and see how they so
abused the privileges of conventual seclusion !

Then try quibbles : '' How can I get the wine out of
a bottle if I hg.ve no corkscrew and must not break the
glass or make a hole in it or the cork? "

The raconteur, or story-teller, is a potent force. Any
one who can memorize the stories of Grimm, or Hans
Christian Anderson, or Browning's " Pied Piper," or
Ouida's " Dog of Flanders," or Dr. Holmes' delightful
" Punch Bowl," and tell these in a natural sort of way is
a blessing. But this talent should never be abused. The
man who, in cold blood, fires off a long poetical quotation
at a dinner, or makes a speech when he is not asked, in
defiance of the goose-flesh which is creeping down his
neighbours' backs, is a traitor to honour and religion, and
should be dragged to execution with his back to the

OF GAMES. 309

horses, like a Nihilist. It is only when these extempore
talents can be used without alarming people that they
are useful or endurable.

Perhaps we might make our Christmas Holidays a lit-
tle more gay. There are old English and German cus-
toms beyond the mistletoe, and the tree, and the rather
faded legend of Santa Claus. There are worlds of
legendary lore. We might bring back the Leprechaun,
the little fairy-man in red, who if you catch him will
make you happy forever after, and who has such a strange
relationship to humanity that at birth and death the
Leprechaun must be tended by a mortal. To follow up
the Banshee and the Brownie, to light the Yule log, to
invoke the Lord of Misrule, above all to bring back the
waits or singing-boys who come under the window with
an old carol, and the universal study of symbolism, — all
this is useful at Christmastide, when the art of entertain-
ing is ennobled by the song " Glory to God in the highest,
and on earth peace, good-will toward men."

The supper-table has unfortunately fallen into desue-
tude, probably on account of our exceedingly late din-
ners. We sup out, we sup at a ball, but rarely have that
informal and delightful meal which once wound up every
evening.

Mrs. Elizabeth Montague, in her delightful letters, talks
about the " Whisk, and the Quadrille parties, with a light
supper," which amused the ladies of her day. We still
have the " Whisk," but what has become of lansquenet^
quadrille basset, piquet, those pretty and courtly games?

Whist ! Who shall pretend to describe its attractions ?
What a relief to the tired man of affairs, to the woman
who has no longer any part in the pageant of society !
What pleasure in its regulating, shifting fortunes. We

3IO THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

have seen, in its parody on life, that holding the best
cards, even the highest ones, does not always give us the
game. We have noticed that with a poor hand, some-
body wins fame, success, and happiness. We have all
felt the injustice of the long suit, which has baffled our
best endeavours. We play our own experience over
again, with its faithless kings and queens. The knave is
apt to trip us up, on the green cloth as on the street.

So long as cards do not lead to gambling, they are in-
nocent enough. The great passion for gambling is be-
hind the game of boaston, played appropriately for
beans. We all like to accumulate, to believe that we are
fortune's favourite. What matter if it be only a few more
beans than one's neighbour?

That is a poorly furnished parlour which has not a
chess table in one corner, a whist table properly stocked,
and a little solitaire table for Grandma. Cribbage and
backgammon boards, cards of every variety, bezique
counters and packs, and the red and white champions for
the hard-fought battle-field of chess, should be at hand.

Playing cards made their way through Arabia from
India to Europe, where they first arrived about the year
1370. They carried with them the two rival arts, engra-
ving and painting. They were the avants couriers of en-
graving on wood and metal, and of the art of printing.

Cards, begun as the luxuries of kings and queens,
became the necessity of the gambler, the solace of all
who like games. They have been one of the worst
curses and one of the greatest blessings of poor human
nature.

" When failing health, or cross event,
Or dull monotony of days,
Has brought us into discontent
Which darkens round us like a haze "-^

OF GAMES. 311

then the arithmetical progression of a game has some-
times saved the reason. They are a priceless boon to
failing eyesight.

Piquet, a courtly game, was invented by Etienne Vig-
noles, called La Hire, one of the most active soldiers of
the reign of Charles VII. This brave soldier was an
accomplished cavalier, deeply imbued with a reverence
for the manners and customs of chivalry. Cards con-
tinued from his day to follow the whim of the court, and
to assume the character of the period, through the
regency of Marie de Medicis, the time of Anne of
Austria and of Louis XIV. The Germans were the first
people to make a pack of cards assume the form of a
scholastic treatise ; the king, queen, knight, and knave
tell of English customs, manners, and nomenclature.

The highly intellectual game of Twenty Questions can
be played by three or four people or by a hundred. It
is an unfailing delight by the wood fire in the remote
house in the wood, or by the open window looking out
on the lordly Hudson of a summer's night. It only
needs that one bright mind shall throw the ball, and
half a dozen may catch. Mr. Lowell once said there
was no subject so erudite, no quotation so little known,
that it could not be reached in twenty questions.

But we are not all as bright as James Russell Lowell.
We can, however, all ask questions and we can all guess ;
it is our Yankee privilege. The game of Twenty
Questions has led to the writing of several books. The
best way to begin is, however, to choose a subject. Two
persons should be in the secret. The questioner begins :
Is it animal, vegetable or mineral? Is it a manufactured
object? Ancient or modern? What is its shape, size
and colour ? W^hat is its use ? Where is it now ? The

312 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

object of the answerer is of course to baffle, to excite
curiosity ; it is a mental battledore and shuttlecock.

It is strange that the pretty game of croquet has gone
out of favour. It is still, however, to be seen on some
handsome lawns. Twenty years ago it inspired the
following lines : —

CROQUET.

"A painter must that poet be
And lay with brightest hues his palette
"Who 'd be the bard of Croquet'rie
And sing the joys of hoop and mallet.

" Given a level lawn in June
And six or eight, enthusiastic,
Who never miss their hoops, or spoon,
And are on duffers most sarcastic ;

"Given the girl whom you adore —
And given, too, that she 's your side on,
Given a game that 's not soon o'er,
And ne'er a bore the lawn espied on ;

" Given a claret cup as cool
As simple Wenham Ice can make it.
Given a code whose every rule
Is so defined that none can break it ;

" Given a very fragrant weed —
Given she does n't mind your smoking,
Given the players take no heed
And most discreetly keep from joking;

" Given all these, and I proclaim.
Be fortune friendly or capricious,
Whether you win or lose the game.
You '11 find that croquet is delicious."

ARCHERY.

" The stranger he made no muckle ado,
But he bent a right good bow,
And the fattest of all the herds he slew
Forty good yards him fro ;
• Well shot ! well shot ! ' quoth Robin Hood."

" Aim at the moon, if you ambitious are,
And failing that, you may bring down a star."

FASHION has brought us again this pretty and
romantic pastime, which has filled the early ballads
with many a picturesque figure. Now on many a lawn
may be seen the target and the group in Lincoln green.
Indeed, it looks as if archery were to prove a very for-
midable rival to lawn tennis.

The requirements of archery are these : First, a bow ;
secondly, arrows ; thirdly, a quiver, pouch, and belt ;
fourthly, a grease pot, an arm-guard or brace, a shooting-
glove, a target and a scoring-card.

The bow is the most important article in archery, and
also the most expensive. It is usually from five to six
feet in length, made of a simple piece of yew or of
lance-wood and hickory glued together back to back.
The former is better for gentlemen, the latter for ladies,
as it is adapted for the short, sharp, pull of the feminine
arm. The wood is gradually tapered, and at each end
is a tip of horn; the one from the upper end being
longer than the other or lower end. The strength of

314 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

bows is marked in pounds, varying from twenty-five to
forty pounds in strength for ladies, for gentlemen from
fifty to eighty pounds. One side of the bow is flat,
called the back, the other, called the belly, is rounded.
Nearly in the middle, where the hand should take hold,
it is lapped round with velvet, and that part is called the
handle. In each of the tips of the horns is a notch for
the string, called the nock.

Bow strings are made of hemp or flax, the former
being the better material, for though at first they stretch
more, yet they wear longer and stand a harder pull, and
are, as well, more elastic in the shooting. In applying a
fresh string to a bow, be careful in opening it not to
break the composition that is on it. Cut the tie, take
hold of the eye which will be found ready worked at one
end, let the other part hang down, and pass the eye over
the upper end of the bow. If for a lady, it may be held
from two to two and a half inches below the nock ; if for
a gentleman, half an inch lower, varying it according to
the length and strength of the bow. Then run your hand
along the side of the bow and string to the bottom nock.
Turn it around that and fix it by the noose, called the
timber noose, taking care not to untwist the string in
making it. This noose is simply a turn back and twist,
without a knot. When strung a lady's bow will have the
string about five inches from the belly, and a gentle-
man's about half an inch more. The part opposite the
handle is 'bound round with waxed silk in order to pre-
vent its being frayed by the arrow. As soon as a string
becomes too soft and the fibres too straight, rub it with
beeswax and give it a few turns in the proper direction,
so as to shorten it, and twist its strands a little tighter.
A spare string should always be provided by the shooter.

ARCHERY. 315

Arrows are differently shaped by various makers ;
some being of uniform thickness throughout, while
others are protuberant in the middle ; some again are
larger at the point than at the feather end. They are
generally made of white deal, with joints of iron or
brass riveted on, and have a piece of heavy wood spliced
to the deal, between it and the point, by which their
flight is improved. At the other end a piece of horn is
inserted, in which is a notch for the string. They are
armed with three feathers glued on, one of which is a
different colour from the others, and is intended to mark
the proper position of the arrow when placed on the
string, this one always pointing from the bow. These
feathers, properly applied, give a rotary motion to the
arrow, which causes its flight to be straight. They are
generally from the wing of the turkey or the goose. The
length and weight of the arrows vary, the latter in Eng-
land being marked in sterling silver coin and stamped
in the arrow in plain figures. It is usual to paint a crest
or a monogram or distinguishing rings on the arrow, just
between the feathers by which they may be known in
shooting at the target.

The quiver is merely a tin case painted green, in-
tended for the security of the arrows when not in use.
The pouch and belt are worn round the waist, the lat-
ter containing those arrows which are actually being
shot. A pot to hold grease for touching the glove and
string, and a tassel to wipe the arrows are hung at the
belt. The grease is composed of beef suet and wax
melted together. The arm is protected from the blow
of the string by the brace, a broad guard of strong
leather buckled on by two straps. A shooting-glove,
also of thin tubes of leather, is attached to the wrist by

3l6 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

three flat pieces, ending in a circular strap buckled
around it. This glove prevents the soreness of the fin-
gers, which soon comes after using the bow without it.

The target consists of a circular mat of straw, covered
with canvas painted in a series of circles. It is usually
from three feet six inches to four feet in diameter, the
centre is gilt, and called the gold ; the ring about it is
called the red, after which comes the inner white, then
the black, and finally the outer white. These targets are
mounted on triangular stands, from fifty to a hundred
yards apart ; sixty being the usual shooting distance.

A scoring-card is provided with columns for each
colour, which are marked with a pin. The usual score
for a gold hit, or the bull's-eye, is 9, the red 7, inner
white 5, black 3, and outer white, i.

To string the bow properly it should be taken by the
handle in the right hand. Place one end on the ground,
resting in the hollow of the right foot, keeping the flat
side of the bow, called the back, toward your person.
The left foot should be advanced a little, and the right
placed so that the bow cannot slip sideways. Place the
heel of the left hand upon the upper limb of the bow,
below the eye of the string. Now while the fingers and
thumb of the left hand slide the eye towards the notch
in the horn, and the heel pushes the limb away from the
body, the right hand pulls the handle toward the person
and thus resists the action of the left, by which the bow
is bent, and at the same time the string is slipped into
the nock, as the notch is termed. Take care to keep the
three outer fingers free from the string, for if the bow
should slip from the hand, and the string catch them,
they will be severely pinched. In shooting in frosty
weather, warm the bow before the fire or by friction with

ARCHERY. 317

a woollen cloth. If the bow has been lying by for a long
time, it should be well rubbed with boiled linseed oil
before using it.

To unstring the bow hold it as in stringing, then press
down the upper limb exactly as before, and as if you
wished to place the eye of the string in a higher notch.
This will loose the string and liberate the eye, when it
must be lifted out of the notch by the forefinger, and suf-
fered to slip down the limb.

Before using the bow hold it in a perpendicular direc-
tion, with the string toward you, and see if the line of the
string cuts the middle of the bow. If not, shift the eye
and noose of the string to either side, so as to make the
two lines coincide. This precaution prevents a very
common cause of defective shooting, which is the result
of an uneven string throwing the arrow on one side.
After using it unstring it, and at a large shooting-party
unloose your bow after every round. Some bows get
bent into very unmanageable shapes.

The general management of the bow should be on the
principle that damp injures it, and that any loose float-
ing ends interfere with its shooting. It should therefore
be kept well varnished, and in a waterproof case, and it
should be carefully dried after shooting in damp weather.
If there are any ends hanging from the string cut them
off close, and see that the whipping, in the middle of the
string, is close and well-fitting. The case should be hung
up against a dry, internal wall, not too near the fire. In
selecting your bow be careful that it is not too strong for
your power, and that you can draw the arrow to its head
without any trembling of the hand. If this cannot be
done after a little practice, the bow should be changed
for a weaker one ; for no arrow will go true, if it is di§-

3l8 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

charged by a trembling hand. If an arrow has been
shot into the target on the ground, be particularly care-
ful to withdraw it by laying hold close to its head, and
by twisting it around as it is withdrawn, in the direction
of its axis. Without this precaution it may be easily
bent or broken.

In shooting at the target the first thing is to nock the
arrow, that is, to place it properly on the string. In
order to effect this, take the bow in the left hand, with
the string toward you, the upper limb being toward the
right. Hold it horizontally while you take the arrow by
the middle ; pass it on the under side of the string and
the upper side of the bow, till the head reaches two or
three inches past the left hand. Hold it there with the
forefinger or thumb, while you remove the right hand
down to the neck ; turn the arrow till the cock feather
comes uppermost, then pass it down the bow, and fix it
on the working part of the string. In doing this all
contact with the feathers should be avoided, unless they
are rubbed out of place, when they may be smoothed
down by passing them through the hand.

The body should be at right angles with the target,
but the face must be turned over the left shoulder, so as
to be opposed to it. The feet must be flat on the
ground, with the heels a little apart, the left foot turned
toward the mark. The head and chest inclined a little
forward so as to present a full bust, but not bent at all
below the waist. Draw the arrow to the full length of
the arm, till the hand touches the shoulder, then take
aim. The loosing should be quick, and the string must
leave the fingers smartly and steadily. The bow-head
miust be as firm as a vise, no trembling allowed.

The rules of an Archery Club are usually that a Lady

ARCHERY. 3 10

Paramount be annually elected ; that there be a Presi-
dent, Secretary, and Treasurer ; that all members intend-
ing to shoot shall appear in the uniform of the club, and
that a fine shall be imposed for non-attendance.

The Secretary sends out cards at least a week before
each day of meeting, acquainting members with the
place and hour.

There are generally four prizes for each meeting, two
for each sex, the first for numbers, the second for hits.
No person is allowed to take both on the same day. A
certain sum of money is voted to the Lady Paramount,
for prizes for each meeting.

In case of a tie for hits, numbers decide, and in case
of a tie for numbers, hits decide. The decision of the
Lady Paramount is final.

There is also a challenge prize, and a commemorative
ornament is presented to the winner of this prize.

The distance for shooting is sixty or one hundred
yards, and five-feet targets are used.

The dress or uniform of the club is decided by the
Lady Paramount.

The expenses of archery are not great, about the same
as lawn tennis, although a great many arrows are lost in
the course of the season. Bows and other paraphernalia
last a long time. The lady archers are apt to feel a
little lame after the first two or three essays, but they
should practise a short time every morning, and always
in a loose waist or jacket. It will be found a very
healthy and strengthening practice and pastime.

We must not judge of the merits of ancient bowmen
from the practice of archery in the present day. There
are no such distances now assigned for the marks as we
find mentioned in old histories or poetic legends, nor

320 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

such precision, even at short lengthis, in the direction of
the arrow. Few, if any, modern archers in long shooting
reach four hundred yards ; or in shooting at a mark
exceed eighty or a hundred. Archery has been since
the invention of gunpowder followed as a pastime only.
It is decidedly the most graceful game that can be prac-
tised, and the legends of Sherwood Forest, of Maid
Marion, Little John, Friar Tuck, and the Abbot carry us
back into the fragrant heart, of the forest, and bring back
memories which are agreeable to all who have in them a
drop of Saxon blood.

The usual dress is the Lincoln green of Robin Hood
and his merry men, and at Auburn in New York they
have a famous club and shooting ground, over the gate
of which is painted this motto : —

" What is hit is history,
And what is missed is mystery.''

The traveller still sees in the Alpine Tyrol, and in
some parts of Switzerland, bands of archers who depend
on the bow and arrow for their game. But there is not
that skill or that poetry attached to the sport which made
Locksley try conclusions with Hubert, in the presence
of Prince John, as we read in the immortal pages of
Ivanhoe.

The prize was to be a bugle horn mounted with silver,
a silken baldric richly ornamented, having on it a medal-
lion of Saint Hubert, the patron of sylvan sport. Had
Robin Hood been beaten he would have yielded up bow,
baldric, and quiver to the provost of the sports ; as it was,
however, he let fly his arrow, and it lighted upon that of
his competitor, which it split to shivers.

THE SEASON, BALLS, AND RECEPTIONS.

" Good-night to the season ! the dances,

The fillings of hot little rooms,
The glancings of rapturous glances,

The flarings of fancy costumes.
The pleasures which fashion makes duties,

The phrasings of fiddles and flutes.
The luxury of looking at beauties.

The tedium of talking to mutes.
The female diplomatists, planners

Of matches for Laura and Jane,
The ice of her Ladyship's manners !

The ice of his Lordship's champagne."

THE season in London extends from May to August,
often longer if Parliament is in session. In Paris
it is from May to the Grand Frixy when it is supposed
to end, about the 20th of June. In New York and
Washington it is all winter, from November ist to Lent,
with good Episcopalians, and from November to May
with the rest of mankind.

It then begins again in July, with the people who go to
Newport and to Bar Harbor, and keeps up until Septem-
ber, when comes in Tuxedo and the gayety of Long
Island, and the Hudson. Indeed, with the gayety of
country-house life, hunting, lawn tennis and driving, it is
hard to say when the American season ends.

There is one sort of entertainment which is a favourite
everywhere and very convenient. It is the afternoon

21

322 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

reception or party by daylight. The gas is lighted, the
day excluded, the hostess and her guests are in beautiful
toilets; their friends come in street dresses and bon-
nets ; their male friends in frock coats. This is one of
the anomalies of fashion. These entertainments are
very large, and a splendid collation is served. The form
of invitation is simply —

Mrs. Brownton at home
Thursday, from 3 to 6.

and unless an R. S. V. P. is appended, no reply is expected.
These receptions are favourites with housekeepers, as
they avoid the necessity of keeping the servants up at
night.

The drawback to this reception is that, in our busy
world of America, very few men can spare the time
to call in the daytime, so the attendance is largely
feminine.

On entering, the guest places a card on the table, or,
if she cannot be present, she should send a card in an
envelope.

After these entertainments, which are really parties, a
lady should call. They are different things entirely from
afternoon tea, after which no call is expected. If the
reception is given to some distinguished person, the lady
stands beside her guest to present all the company to him
or her.

If on the card the word "Music " is added, the guests
should be punctual, as, doubtless, they are to be seated,
and that takes time. No lady who gives a imisicale
should invite more than she can seat comfortably ; and
she should have her rooms cool, and her lights soft and
shaded.

THE SEASON, BALLS, AND RECEPTIONS. 323

People with weak eyes suffer dreadfully from a glare
of gas, and when music is going on they cannot move to
relieve themselves. The hostess should think of all this.
Who can endure the mingled misery of a hot room, an
uncomfortable seat, a glare of gas, and a pianoforte
solo?

A very sensible reformation is now in progress in re-
gard to the sending of invitations and the answering of
the same. The post is now freely used as a safe and
convenient medium, and no one feels offended if an in-
vitation arrives with a two-cent stamp on the envelope.
There is no loss of caste in sending an invitation by
post.

Then comes the ball, or, as they always say in Etirope,
the dance, which is the gayest of all things for the de-
butante. The popular form for an invitation to an even-
ing party is as follows : —

Mrs. Hammond

Requests the pleasure of

Mr. and Mrs. Norton's company

on Tuesday evening, December 23, at 9 o'clock.

R. S. V. P. Dancing.

The card of the debutarite, if the ball is given for one,
is enclosed.

If a hostess gives her ball at some public place, like
Delmonico's, she has but little trouble. The compli-
ment is not the same as if she gave it in her own house,
however. If there is room, a ball in a private house
is much more agreeable, and a greater honour to the
guest.

Gentlemen who have not an acquaintance should be
presented to the young dancing set ; but first, of course,

324 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING. /

to the chaperon. As, however, the hostess cannot leave
her post while receiving, she should have two or three
friends to help her. Great care should be taken that
there be no wall-flowers, no neglected girls. The non-
dancers in an American ball are like the non- Catholics
in a highly doctrinal sermon : they are nowhere, pushed
into a corner where there is perhaps a draught, and the
smell of fried oysters. Such is the limbo of the woman
of forty or over, who in Europe would be the belle, the
person just beginning to have a career. For it is too true
that the woman who has learned something, who is still
beautiful, the woman who has maturity and experience,
is pushed to the wall in America, while in Europe she
is courted and admired. Society holds out all its at-
tractive distractions and comforts to such a woman in
Europe ; in America it keeps everything, even its com-
forts, for the very young.

The fact that American ballrooms, or rather the par-
lours of our ordinary houses, are wholly disproportioned
to the needs of society, has led to the giving of balls at
Delmonico's and other public places. If these are un-
der proper patronage there is no reason why they should
not be as entertaining, as exclusive, and as respectable
as a ball at home. Any hostess or group of managers
should, if they give up a ball at home and use the large
accommodations of Delmonico or the Assembly Rooms,
certainly consider the claims of chaperons and mam-
mas who must wearily sit through the German. It is
to be feared that attention to the mamma is not yet a
grace in which even her daughter excels. Young men
who wish to marry mademoiselle had better pay her
mother the compliment of getting her a seat, and social
leaders should also show her the greatest attention.

THE SEASON, BALLS, AND RECEPTIONS. 325

not alone from the selfish reason which the poet
commemorates : —

" Philosophy has got a charm, —
I thought of Martin Tupper, —
And offering mamma my arm,
I took her down to supper.

" I gave her Pommery, C6te d'Or,
Which seethed in rosy bubbles ;
I called this fleeting life a bore,
The world a sea of troubles."

It is to be feared that the Hfe of a chaperon in America
is not a bed of roses, even if softened by all these
attentions.

Kept up late, pushed into a corner, the mother of a
society girl becomes only a sort of head-chambermaid.
Were she in Europe, she would be the person who would
receive the compliments and the attention and be asked
to dance in the German.

A competent critic of our manners spoke of this in the
following sensible words : —

" The evils arising from the excessive liberty per-
mitted to American girls cannot be cured by laws.
If we ever root them out we must begin with the
family life, which must be reformed. For young people,
parental authority is the only sure guide. Coleridge
well said that he who was not able to govern himself
must be governed by others ; and experience has shown
us that the children of civilized parents are as little able
to govern themselves as the children of savages. The
liberty or license of our youth will have to be curtailed,
as our society is becoming more complex and artificial,
like older societies in Europe. The children will have
to approximate to them in status, and parents will have

326 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

to waken to a sense of their responsibilities, and sub-
ordinate their ambitions and their pleasures to tieir
duties." Mothers should go out more with their daugh-
ters, join in their pleasures, and never permit themselves
to be shelved.

Society is in a transition state in America. In one or
more cities of the West and South it is considered proper
for a young man to call for a young girl, and drive with
her alone to a ball. In Northern cities this is considered
very bad form. In Europe it would be considered a
vulgar madness, and a girl's character compromised.
Therefore it is better for the mother to keep her right-
ful place as guardian, chaperon, friend, no matter how
she is treated.

Women are gifted with so much tact and so intuitive
a faculty, that in the conduct of fashionable life they need
but few hints.

The art of entertaining should be founded first, on
good sense, a quiet considerateness, a good heart, a
spirit of friendliness ; next, a consideration of what is
due to others and what is due to one's self. There is al-
ways a social conscience in one's organization, which will
point aright ; but the outward performance of conventional
rules can never be thoroughly learned, unless the heart is
well-bred.

Many ladies are now introducing dancing at crowded
day receptions and teas. Where people are coming and
going this is objectionable, as the hostess is expected to
do too much, and the guests being in street dress, while
/he hostess and her dancers are in low evening dress, the
appearance of the party is not ornamental.

Evening parties are far more formal, and require the
most elaborate dress. Every lady who can wear a low-

THE SEASON, BALLS, AND RECEPTIONS. 327

ne:ked dress should do so. The great drawback in
Nev York is now the ridiculous lateness of the hour —
eleven or twelve — at which the guests arrive.
If a card is written, —

Mrs. Brown at home Tuesday evening,

some sticklers for etiquette say that she should not put
R. S. V. P. on her card.

If she wishes an answer, she should say, —

Mrs. Brown
requests the pleasure of
Mr. and Mrs. Campbell's company.
R. S. V. P.

Perhaps the latter is better form. It is more respect-
ful. The "At Home " can be used for large and infor-
mal receptions, where an individual acceptance is not
required.

Garden parties are becoming very fashionable at
watering-places, in rural cities, and at country houses
which are accessible to a town. No doubt the garden
party is a troublesome affair in a climate so capricious
as ours. The hostess has to be prepared for a sudden
shower, and to have two tables of refreshments. The
effort to give the out-of-door plays in this country, as
in England, has often been frustrated by a sudden
shower, as at Mrs. Stevens' palace at Castle Point.
It is curious that they can and do give them in England,
where it always rains. However, these entertainments
and hunting remain rather as visitors than as old and
recognized institutions.

Americans all dance well, and are always glad to
dance. Whether it be assembly, hunt ball, or private

328 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

party, the German cotillion finishes the ball. It /s
an allegory of society in its complicated and bewilder-
ing complications, its winding and unwinding of che
tangled chain.

In every large city a set arises whose aim is D be
exclusive. Sometimes this privilege seems to be piished
too far. Often one is astonished at the black sheep
who leap into the well-defended enclosures. In Lon-
don, formerly, an autocratic set of ladies, well known
as Almacks, turned out the Duke of Wellington because
he came in a black cravat. In our republican country
perpetual Almacks arise, offensive and defensive, — a
state of things which has its advantages and disadvaji-
tages. It keeps up an interest in society. It is like
the fire in the engine : it makes the train move, even
if it sends out smoke and cinders which get into
people's eyes and make them weep. It is a part of
the inevitable friction which accompanies the best
machinery; and if they have patience, those who are
left out one winter will be the inside aristocrats of the
next, and can leave somebody else out.

Quadrilles, the Lancers, and occasionally a Virginia
Reel, are introduced to make the modem ball more
interesting, and enable people who cannot bear the
whirl of the waltz to dance. The elderly can dance
a quadrille without loss of breath or dignity. Indeed,
the Americans are the only people who relegate the
dance to the young alone. In Europe the old gray-
head, the old mustache, leads the German. Ambas-
sadors and generals, princes and potentates, go spinning
around with gray-haired ladies until they are seventy.
Grandmothers dance with their grandsons. Socrates
learned to dance. In Europe it is the elderly woman

THE SEASON, BALLS, AND RECEPTIONS. 329

who receives the most flattering invitations to lead the
German. An ambassadress of fifty would be very much
astonished if the prince did not ask her to dance.

The saltatory art is like the flight of a butterfly, —
hard to describe, impossible to follow. The valse a
deux temps keeps its precedence in Europe as the
favourite measure, varied with galop, polka, and polka
mazourka. We add, in America, Dancing in the Barn,
which is really a Spanish dance.

The Pavanne is worthy of study, and the Mmuet
de la Cour is a stately and beautiful thing, quite worthy
of being learned, if it only teaches our women how to
make a courtesy.

Each leader of the German is a potentate ; he leads
his troops through new evolutions, and into combina-
tions so vast, varied, and changeful that it is impossible
to do more than hint at them.

The proper name for a private ball is "a dance."
In London one never talks of balls ; it is always " a
dance." Although supper is served generally at a
buffet, yet some leaders, with large houses, are intro-
ducing little tables, which are more agreeable, but
infinitely inconvenient. The comfort, however, of be-
ing able to sit while eating, and the fact that a party
of four or six may enjoy their supper together would
certainly determine the question as to its agreeableness.
This is a London fashion, one set succeeding another
at the same table. It can only be carried out, however,
in a very large house or public place. The ball suppers
in New York — indeed, all over America — are very
"gorgeous feeds" compared with those one sees in
Europe. The profusion of flowers, the hot oysters,
boned turkey, terrapin, and canvas-back duck, the

330 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

salmon, the game patties, salads, ices, jellies, and
creams, all crowded in, sweetbreads and green peas,
fikt de bceufy constant cups of bouilloii, — one feels Car-
lyle's internal rat gnawing as one reads of them, — the
champagne, the punch, the fine glass, choice china, the
drapery of German looms, the Queen Anne silver,
the porcelain of Sevres and Dresden, the beauty of
the women, the smart dressing, make the ball supper
an elegant, an amazing, a princely sort of sight, sav-
ing that princes do not give such feasts, — only
Americans.

WEDDINGS.

" Rice and slippers, slippers and rice !
Quaint old symbols of all that 's nice
In a world made up of sugar and spice,
With a honeymoon always shining;
A world where the birds keep house by twos,
And the ring-dove calls, and the stock-dove coos,
And maids are many, and men may choose,
And never shall love go pining ! "

IF there were no weddings, there would be no art
of entertaining. It is the key-note, the initial let-
ter, the " open sesame," of the great business of society.
Therefore certain general and very, perhaps, unneces-
sary hints as to the conduct of weddings in all countries
may not be out of place here.

In London a wedding in high life — or, as the French
call it, " higlif " — is a very sweeping affair. If we were
to read the descriptions in the '' Court Journal " of one
wedding trousseau alone, furnished to a royal princess,
or to Lady Gertrude Somebody, we should say with
Fielding that "dress is the principal accomplishment
of men and women." As for the wedding-cake which
is built at Gunter's, it is a sight to see, — almost as big
as Mont Blanc.

The importance of Gunter is assured by the "Epicure's
Almanac," published in 1815 ; and for many years this
firm supplied the royal family. When George III. was
king, the royal dukes stopped to eat Gunter's pies, in

332 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

gratitude for the sweet repasts furnished them in child-
hood ; but now the Buzzards, of 1 9 7 Oxford Street, also
are specialists in wedding-cakes.

Leigh Hunt, in one of his essays, described one
Trumbull Walker as "the artist who confined himself
to that denomination," meaning wedding-cake. His
mantle fell on the Buzzards.

This enormous cake, and the equally enormous bou-
quet are the chief distinctive marks in which a London
wedding differs from ours. To be legal, unless by
special license, weddings in England must be celebrated
before twelve o'clock. The reason given for this law
is that before 1820 gentlemen were supposed to be
drunk after that hour, and not responsible for what
they promised at the altar.

In France, a singular difference of dress on the part
of the groom exists. He always wears a dress-coat and
white cravat, as do all his ushers and immediate friends.
It looks very strange to English and American eyes.

How does a wedding begin ? As for the premonitory
symptoms, they are in the air for several weeks. It is
whispered about amongst the bridesmaids; it gets into
the papers. It would be easy to write a volume, and
it would be a useful volume if it brought conviction
to the hearts of the offenders, of the wrong done to
young ladies by the newspapers who assume, without
authority, to publish the news of an engagement. Many
a match has been broken off by such a premature sur-
mise, and the happiness of one or more persons injured
for life.

Young people like to approach this most important
event of their lives in a mutual confidence and secrecy ;
consequently society newspapers should be very careful

WEDDINGS. 333

how they either report an engagement, or declare that
it is off. Sometimes rumors prejudicial to the gentle-
man are circulated without sufficient reason, and of
course much ill-feeling is engendered.

The first intimation of an engagement should come
from the bride's mother, and the young bride fixes the
day of her wedding herself. Then the father and
mother, or guardians, of the young lady issue cards,
naming the day and hour of the wedding.

Brides often give the attendant maidens their dresses ;
or if they do not choose to do this, they suggest what
they shall wear.

Six ushers generally precede the party into the church,
after having seated the guests. These are generally
followed by six bridesmaids, who walk two and two.
No one wears a veil but the bride herself, who enters
on her father's arm. Widows who marry again must
not wear white, or veils. The fact that the bride is
in white satin, and often with low neck and short
sleeves, and the groom in full morning costume, is
much criticised in France.

If the wedding occurs in the evening, the groom must
wear a dress-coat and white tie.

The invitations to the wedding are very simple and
explicit : —

General and Mrs. Brounlow

Request the pleasmre of your company

at the marriage of their daughter

EXCLAIRMONDE

to

Mr. Gerald FitzGerald,

on Thursday, June i6th, at 12 o'clock,

St. Peter's Church,

334 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

In asking a young lady to be her bridesmaid, the bride
is supposed to be prompted by claims of relationship
or friendship, although fashion and wealth and other
considerations often influence these invitations. As for
the ushers, they must be unmarried men, and are ex-
pected to manage all matters at the church.

Music should play softly during the entrance of the
family, before the service. The mother of the bride,
and her nearest relatives, precede her into the church,
and are seated before she enters, unless the mother be
a widow and gives the bride away. The ceremony
should be conducted with great dignity and composure
on all sides ; for exhibitions of feeling in public are in
the worst possible taste. At the reception, the bride's
mother yields her place as hostess for the nonce, and
is addressed after the bride.

After two hours of receiving her friends, the young
wife goes upstairs to put on her dress for the journey,
which may be of any colour but black. Perhaps this
is the time for a few tears, as she kisses mamma good-
by. She comes down, with her mother and sisters,
meets the groom in the hall, and dispenses the flowers
of her bouquet to the smiling maidens, each of whom
struggles for a flower.

The parents of the bride send announcement cards
to persons not invited to the wedding.

Dinners to the young pair succeed each other in
rapid succession. For the first three months the art
of entertaining is stretched to its uttermost.

A widow, in marrying again, should not use the name
or initials of her late husband. If she was Mary Stew-
ard, and had married Mr. Hamilton, and being his widow,
wishes to marry James Constable, her cards should read :

WEDDINGS. 335

Mr. and Mrs. Steward

Request the pleasure of your company

at the marriage of their daughter

Mary Steward-Hamilton

to

Mr. James Constable.

If she is alone, she can invite in her own name as
Mrs. Mary Steward Hamilton; or better still, a friend
sends out the cards in her own name, with simply
the cards of Mrs. Mary Steward Hamilton, and of the
gentleman whom she is to marry.

The custom of giving bridal presents has grown into
an outrageous abuse of a good thing. There has grown
up a rivalry between families ; and the publicity of the
whole thing, its notoriety and extravagance, ought to be
well rebuked.

At the wedding refreshment-table, the bride sometimes
cuts the cake and allows the young people to search for
a ring, but this is rather bad for the gloves.

At a country wedding, if the day is fine, little tables
are set out on the lawn. The ladies seat themselves, the
gentlemen carry refreshments to them. The piazzas can be
decorated with autumn boughs, evergreens, and flowers ;
the whole thing becomes a garden-party, and even the
family dogs should have a wreath of white flowers around
their necks.

Much ill feeling is apt to be engendered by the dis-
tinction which is inevitably made in leaving out the
friends who feel that they were entitled to an invitation
to the house. It is better to ofl'end no one on so
important an occasion.

Wedding - cards and wedding stationery should be

336 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

simple, white without glaze, and with no attempt at
ornamentation.

It is proper for the bride to have her left hand bare as
she walks to the altar, as it saves her the trouble of tak- '
ing off a long glove.

Child bridesmaids are very pretty and very much in
favour. These charming children, covered with flowers
and looking very grave and solemn, are the sweetest of
heralds for a wedding procession.

There is not, however, much difficulty except when
Protestant marries Catholic. Such a marriage cannot be
celebrated at the High Altar ; it leads to a house wed-
ding which is in the minds of many much more agreeable,
as saving the bride the journey to church. In this mat-
ter, one of individual preference of course, the large and
liberal American mind can have a very wide choice.

In France the couple must go to the Mairie, where
an official in a tricolour scarf, looking like Marat, marries
them. This is especially the case if husband or wife is a
divorced person, the Catholic church refusing to marry
such. It is a curious fact, that in Catholic Italy a civil
marriage is the only legal marriage; therefore good
Catholics are all married twice. A mixed marriage in
Catholic countries is very difficult ; but in our country,
alas ! the wedding knot can be untied as easily as it is
tied.

"This train waits twenty minutes for divorces" is a
joke founded on fact.

"What do divorcees do with their wedding presents? "
has been a favourite conundrum of late, especially with
those sent by the friends of the husband.

If an evening wedding takes place in a church those
who are asked to the house afterwards should go without

WEDDINGS. 337

bonnets. Catholic ladies, however, must always cover
their heads in church ; so they throw a light lace or man-
tilla over the head.

It is not often that the bride dances at her own wed-
ding, but there is no reason why she should not.

"'Tis custom that makes cowards of us all." One
brave girl was married on a Saturday in May, thus violat-
ing all the old saws and superstitions. She has been
happy ever afterwards. Marriages in May used to be
said to lead to poverty. It is the month of Mary, the
Virgin, therefore Catholics object.

One still braver bride chose Friday; this is hang-
man's day, and also the day of the crucifixion, therefore
considered unlucky by the larger portion of the human
race.

However, marriage is lucky or unlucky as the blind
goddess pleases ; no foresight of ours can make it a cer-
tainty. Sometimes two very doubtful characters make
each other better, and live happily ; again two very fine
characters but help to sublimate each other's misery.
Perhaps no more hopeless picture of this failure was ever
painted than the misery of Caroline and Robert Elsmere,
in that masterly novel which led you nowhere.

There is a capital description of a French bouj-geoise
wedding in one of Daudet's novels : —

" The least details of this important day were forever
engraved on Risler's mind.

'' He saw himself at daybreak pacing his bachelor cham-
ber, already shaved and dressed, with two pairs of white
gloves in his pocket. Then came the gala carriages,
and in the first one, the one with white horses, white
reins, and a lining of yellow satin, his bride's veil floated
like a cloud.

22

33B THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

" Then the entrance to the church, two by two, with this
white cloud ahvays at their head, floating, hght, gleaming ;
the organ, the verger, the sermon of the cure, the tapers
twinkling like jewels, the spring toilets, and all the
world in the sacristie — the little white cloud lost, en-
gulfed, surrounded, embraced, while the groom shook
hands with the representatives of the great Parisian firms
assembled in his honour; and the grand swell of the
organ at the end, more solemn because the doors of the
church were wide open so that the whole quarter took
part in the family ceremony ; the noises of the street as
the cortege passed out, the exclamations of the lookers-
on, — a burnisher in a lustring apron crying aloud, ^ The
groom is not handsome, but the bride is stunning,' — all
this is what makes one proud when he is a bridegroom.

" Then the breakfast at the works, in a room ornamented
with hangings and flowers ; the stroll in the Bois, a con-
cession to the bride's mother, Madame Chebe, who in
her position as a Parisian bourgeoise would not have con-
sidered her daughter married without the round of the
lake and a visit to the cascade ; then the return for din-
ner just as the lights were appearing on the Boulevard,
where every one turned to see the wedding party, a true, ■
well-appointed party, as it passed in a procession of liv-
eried carriages to the very steps of the Cafe Vefour.

" It was all like a dream.

" Now, dulled by fatigue and happiness, the worthy
Risler looked dreamily at the great table of twenty- five
covers, with a horseshoe at each end. Around it were
well-known, smiUng faces in whose eyes he seemed to see
his own happiness reflected. Little waves of conversa-
tion from the different groups drifted across the table ;
faces were turned toward one another. You could see

WEDDINGS. 339

here the white cuffs of a black suit behind a basket of
asclepias, here the laughing face of a girl above a dish of
confections. The faces of the guests were half hidden
behind the flowers and the dessert ; all around the board
were gayety, light, and colour.

" Yes, Risler was happy.

"Aside from his brother Franz, all whom he loved
were there. First and foremost, facing him, was Sidonie,
— yesterday the little Sidonie, to-day his wife. She had
laid aside her veil for dinner, she had emerged from the
white cloud.

" Now in her silken gown, white and simple, her
charming face seemed more clear and sweet under the
carefully arranged bridal wreath.

" By the side of Risler sat Madame Chebe, the mother
of the bride, who shone and glistened in a dress of green
satin gleaming like a shield. Since morning all the
thoughts of the good woman had been as brilhant as her
robe. Every moment she had said to herself, ' My
daughter is marrying Fremont and Risler,' — because in
her mind it was not Risler whom her daughter married,
but the whole establishment.

'' All at once came that little movement among the
guests that announces their leaving the table, — the rustle
of silks, the noise of chairs, the la^t words of talk, laugh-
ter broken off. Then they all passed into the grand
salon, where those invited were arriving in crowds, and,
while the orchestra tuned their instruments, the men with
glass in eye paraded before the young girls all dressed in
white and impatient to begin."

HOW ROYALTY ENTERTAINS.

Stand back, and let the King go by. — Old Play.
*' Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers."

WHEN we approach the subject of royal enter-
tainments, we cannot but feel that the best of us
are at a disadvantage. Princes have palaces and re-
tainers furnished for them. They have a purse which
knows no end. They are either by the divine right, or
by lucky chance, the personages of the hour. It is only
when one of them loses his head, or is forced to abdi-
cate, or falls by the assassin's dagger, that they approach
at all our common humanity.

Doubtless to them, entertaining, being a perfunctory
affair, becomes very tedious. Pomp is not an amusing
circumstance and they get so tired of it all that when
off duty kings and queens are usually the most plainly
dressed and the most simple of mortals. The *' age of
strut " has passed away. No one cares to assume the
pufhness of Louis XIV.' or George IV.

Royal entertainments, however, have this advantage,
they open to the observer the historical palace, and the
pictures, gems of art, and interesting collections of
which palaces are the great conservators.

It would seem that Louis XIV., called le Grand Mon-
arque, Louis the Magnificent, was a master of the art of
entertaining. Under him the science of giving bar;-

HOW ROYALTY ENTERTAINS. 34I

quets received, in common with the other sciences, a
great progressive impulse. There still remains some
memory of those festivals, which all Europe went to see,
and those tournaments, where for the last time shone
lances and knightly suits of armour. The festivals
always ended with a sumptuous banquet, where were
displayed huge centre-pieces of gold and silver, paint-
ing, sculpture, and enamel, all laudatory of the hero of
the occasion.

This fashion made the fame of Benvenuto Cellini in
the previous century. To-day, monarchs content them-
selves with having these centre-pieces made of cake,
sugar, or ices. There will be no record of their great
feasts for future ages.

Toward the end of the reign of Louis XIV., the cook,
the cordon bleu, received favourable notice ; his name
was written beside that of his patron ; he was called in
after dinner. It is mentioned in some of the English
memoirs that this fashion was not unknown so lately as
fifty years ago in great houses in England, where the
cook was called in, in his white cap and apron, publicly
thanked for his efforts, and a glass of wine offered him
by his master, all the company drinking his health.
This must have had an excellent effect on the art of
gastronomy.

Madame de Maintenon, whose gloomy sway over the
old king reduced the gay court to the loneliness of an
empty cathedral, threw a wet napkin on the science of
good eating, and put out the kitchen fires for a season.

Queen Anne, however, was fond of good cheer, and
consulted with her cook. Many cookery books have the
qualification " after Queen Anne's fashion."

Under the Regent Orleans, a princely prince in spite

342 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

of his faults, the art of good eating and entertaining was
revived ; and he has left a reputation for piques of super-
lative delicacy, matelots of tempting quality, and turkeys
superbly stuffed.

The reign of Louis XV. was equally favourable to the
art of entertaining. Eighteen years of peace had made
France rich, and a spirit of conviviality was diffused
amongst all classes. The proper setting of the table,
and order, neatness, and elegance, as essentials of a well-
appointed meal, date from this reign. It is from this
period that the history of the petit soitpers de Choisy
begins. We need hardly go in to that history of all that
was reckless, witty, gay, and dissolute in the art of enter-
taining ; but as one item, a floor was constructed so that
the table and sideboard sank into the lower story after
each course, to be immediately replaced by others which
rose covered with a fresh course. From this we may
imagine its luxury and detail.

Louis XV. was a proficient in the art of cookery ; he
also worked tapestry with his own hand. We should
linger over his feasts with more pleasure had they not
led on to the French Revolution, as a horrible dessert.
His carving-knives later on became the guillotine.

Under Louis XVI. there was a constant improvement
in all the " occupations which are required in the prepa-
ration of food " by cooks, traiteiirs, pastry cooks, and
confectioners. The art of preserving food, so that one
could have the fruits of summer in the midst of winter,
really began then, although the art of canning may safely
be said to belong to our own much later time.

In the year 1 740 a dinner was served in this order :
Soup, followed by the botnlli, an eiitree of veal cooked
in its own gravy, as a side dish. Second course : A

HOW ROYALTY ENTERTAINS. 343

turkey, a dish of vegetables, a salad, and sometimes a
cream. Dessert : Cheese, fruit and sweets. Plates were
changed only thrice : after the soup, at the second
course, and at dessert. Coffee was rarely served,
but cherry brandy or some liqueur was passed,

Louis XVI I L, who grew to be an immensely fat man,
was a remarkable gastronome. Let any one read Victor
Hugo's " Les Mist^rables," and an account of his reign, to
get an idea of this magnificent entertainer. His most
famous maitre d' hotel \y2i?, the Due d'Escars. When he
and his royal master were closeted together to meditate
a dish, the ministers of state were kept waiting in the
antechamber, and the next day an official announcement
was made, " Monsieur le Due d'Escars a travaille dans
le cabinet."

How strangely would it affect the American people if
President Harrison kept them waiting for his signature
because he was discussing terrapin and Madeira sauce
with his chef.

The king had invented the truffles a la pm-ee d'oj'to-
lans, and invariably prepared it himself, assisted by the
duke. On one occasion they jointly composed a dish
of more than ordinary dimensions, and duly consumed
the whole of it. In the night the duke was seized with
a fit of indigestion, and his case was declared hopeless.
Loyal to the last, he ordered an attendant to awake and
inform the king, who might be exposed to a similar
attack. His majesty was roused accordingly, and told
that D'Escars was dying of his invention.

" Dying ! " exclaimed the king ; " well, I always said I
had the better stomach of the two."

So much for the gratitude of kings. The Parisian
restaurants, those world-renowned Edens of the gastron-

344 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

omer, were formed and founded on the theories of these
cookery-lovmg kings. But political disturbances were
to intervene in the year 1770. After the glorious days
of Louis XIV. and the wild dissipation of the Regency,
after the long tranquillity under the ministry of Fleury,
travellers arriving in Paris found its resources very poor
as to good cheer. But that soon mended itself.

It was not until about 18 14 that the parent of Parisian
restaurants, Beauvilliers, made himself a cosmopolitan
reputation by feeding the allied armies. He learned to
speak English, and in that way became most popular.
He had a prodigious memory, and would recognize and
welcome men who had dined at his house twenty years
before. In this he was like General Grant and the
Prince of Wales. It is a very popular faculty.

Beauvilliers, M^ot, Robert, Rose Legacque, the Broth-
ers Very, Hennevan, and Baleine, are the noble army of
argonauts in discovering the Parisian restaurant; or
rather, they founded it.

The Brothers Very, and the Trois Freres Prevenceaux,
both in the Palais Royal, are still great names to com-
pete with. When the allied monarchs held Paris, in
1 8 14, the Brothers Very supphed their table for a daily
charge of one hundred and twenty pounds, not including
wine, and in Pere-la-Chaise a magnificent monument is
erected to one of them, declaring that his "whole life
was consecrated to the useful arts," as it doubtless was.

From that day until 1890, what an adv'ance there has
been. There is now a restaurant in nearly every street
in Paris, where one can get a good dinner. What a
crowd of them in the Champs Elys^es and out near the
Bois.

A Parisian dinner is thoroughly cosmopolitan, and the

tlOW ROYALTY ENTERTAINS. 345

best in the world, when it is good. Parisian cookery
has decUned of late in the matter of meats. They are
not as good as they ought to be. But the sauces are so
many and so fine that they have given rise to many
proverbs. ''The sauce is the ambassador of a king."
" With such a sauce, a man could eat his grandfather."

Leaving France for other shores, for France has no
monarch to entertain us now, let us see how two reigning
monarchs entertain.

A presentation at the Court of St. James is a pictur-
esque affair and worth seeing, although it is a fatiguing
process. A lady must be dressed at eleven in the
morning, in full court dress, which means low neck and
short sleeves, with a train four yards long and three
wide. She must wear a white veil and have three
feathers in her hair so that they can be seen in front.
White gloves are also de rigueur, and as they are seldom
worn now, except at weddings, a lady must remember
to buy a pair. The carriages approach Buckingham
Palace in a long queue, and the lady waits an hour or
more in line, exposed to the jeers of the populace, who
look in at the carriage windows and make comments,
laugh, and amuse themselves. One hopes that this may
do these ragamuffins some good, for they look miserable
enough.

Arriving in the noble quadrangle of Buckingham
Palace, the music of the Guard's band enlivens one, and
the silent, splendid figures of the household troops, the
handsomest men in the world, sit like statues on their
horses. No matter if the rain is pouring, as it generally
is, neither man nor horse stirs.

Once inside the palace, the card of entrance is taken
by one of the Queen's pages, some other official takes

34^ THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

her cloak, and the lady wends her way up a magnificent
staircase into another gallery, out of which open many
fine rooms. Gentlemen of the Household in glittering
uniforms, and with orders, stand about in picturesque
groups.

The last room is filled with chairs, and is soon crowded
with ladies and gentlemen, waiting for the summons to
move on. The gentlemen are all in black velvet suits,
with knee breeches and sword, silk stockings and low
shoes.

A slight commotion at the little turnstile tells you to
take your turn ; you pass on with the others, your name
is loudly called, you make three little courtesies to her
Majesty, the Prince and Princess of Wales, you see a
glittering line of royalties, you hear the words, "Your
train, Madame," it is thrown over your arm by some
cavalier behind, and all is over; except that you are
amongst your friends, and see a glittering room full of
people, and realize that nothing is so bad as you had
feared. After about an hour, you find your carriage and
drive home, or to your minister's for a cup of tea.

Then you receive, if you are fortunate, a great card
from the Lord Chamberlain, with the Queen's command
that you should be invited to a ball at Buckingham
Palace. This ball is a sight to see, so splendid is the
ball-room, so grand the elevated red sofas, with the
duchesses and their jewels. Royalty enters about eleven
o'clock, followed by all the ambassadors.

Of late years the Queen has relegated her place as
hostess to the Princess of Wales, but during the jubilee
year she kept it, and it was a beautiful sight to see the
little woman all covered with jewels, with her royal brood
around her.

HOW ROYALTY ENTERTAINS. 347

The royal family go in to supper through a lane of
guests. The supper-room is adorned with the gold plate
boMght by Geoge IV., and many very fine pieces of plate
given by other monarchs. The eatables and drinkables
are what they would be at any great ball.

The prettiest entertainment of the jubilee year was,
however, the Queen's garden-party. No one had seen
that lovely park behind Buckingham Palace for eighteen
years ; then it was used for the garden-party given to the
Khedive of Egypt. Now it was filled by a most pictur-
esque group. The Indian princes with all their jewels,
their turbans, their robes, their dark, handsome faces,
stood at the foot of a grand staircase which runs from
the palace to the green turf. Every other man was a
king, a prince, a nobleman, a great soldier, a statesman,
a diplomate, a somebody.

The women were all, of course, beautifully dressed in
summer costume ; and the grounds, full of ancient trees
and fountains, artificial lakes with swans, marquees with
refreshments, were as pretty as only a royal English park
can be.

Presently we heard the sound of the bagpipes, and a
procession headed by some dancing Scotchmen came
along. It was the Queen, with all her children and
grandchildren, ladies-in-waiting, and many monarchs,
amongst whom marched Queen Kapiolani of the Sand-
wich Islands. The Queen walked with a cane, the
Prince of Wales by her side. They all stopped repeat-
edly and spoke to their guests on either side ; then the
younger members of the family led the way to the re-
freshment tents, where a truly regal buffet was spread.

There was much 'talk, much music, much laughter,
no stiffness, It was real hospitality. In one of th^

348 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

windows of the palace stood looking out the Crown
Prince of Germany, later on to be the noble Emperor
Frederic, even then feeling the pressure of that malady
which in another year was to kill him. He who had
been, in the procession of Princes on the great day, so
important and so handsome a figure, was on this day a
silent observer. The Queen after this gave an evening
party to all the royalties, and the ambassadors, and
many invited guests.

The hospitality of the Queen is, of course, regal, but
her dinners must of a necessity be formal. General
Grant mentioned his disappointment that he did not sit
next her, when she invited him to Windsor, but she had
one of her children on either side, and he came next to
the Princess Beatrice.

The entertainments at Marlborough House are much
less formal. The Prince of Wales, the most genial and
hospitable of men, cannot always pen up his delightful
cordiality behind the barriers of rank.

As for the King and Queen of Italy, they do not try to
restrain their cordiality. The Court of Italy is most
easy-going, democratic, and agreeable, in spite of its
thousand years of grandeur. The favoured guest who
is to be presented receives a card to the cercle^ on a
certain Monday evening. The card prescribes low-
necked dress, and any colour but black. To drive to
the Quirinal Palace on a moonlight night in Rome is not
unpleasant.

The grand staircase, all covered with scarlet carpet,
was lined with gigantic cuirassiers in scarlet, who stood
as motionless as statues. We entered a grand hall
frescoed by Domenichino. How small we felt under
these giant figures. We passed on to another salon, fres-

HOW ROYALTY ENTERTAINS. 349

coed by Julio Romano, so on to another where a hand-
some cavalier, the Prince Vicovara, received our cards,
and opening a door, presented us to the Marchesa Villa-
marina, the Queen's dearest friend and favourite lady-in-
waiting. We were arranged in rows around a long and
handsome room. Presendy a little movement at the
door, and the deep courtesies of the Princess Brancaccio
and the Princess Vicovara, both Americans, told us that
the Queen had entered.

Truly she is a royal beauty, a wonder on a throne.
An accomplished scholar, a thoughtful woman, Marguerite
of Savoy is the rose of the nineteenth century ; her smile
keeps Italy together. She is the sweetest, the most
beautiful of all the queens, and as she walks about
accompanied by her ladies, who introduce every one, she
speaks to each person in his or her own language ; she
is mistress of ten languages. After she had said a few
gracious words, the Queen disappeared, and the Mar-
chesa Villamarina asked us to take some refreshments,
saying, " I hope we shall see you on Thursday."

The next day came an invitation to the grand court-
ball. This is a very fine sight. The King and Queen
enter and take their places on a high estrade covered
with a crimson velvet baldaquin. Then the ladies and
gentlemen of the household and the ambassadors
enter.

The Count Gianotti, a very handsome Piedmontese,
the favourite friend of the King, the prefect of the pal-
ace and master of ceremonies, declared the ball opened,
and the Queen danced with the Baron Kendall. The
royal quadrille over, dancing became general. The
King stood about looking soldier-like, bored and si-
lent ; a patriot and brave man, he hates society. The

3 so THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Queen does all the social work, and she does it
admirably.

What a company that was, — all the Roman nobility,
the diplomatic corps, the visitors to Rome, S. P. Q. R.,
the senate and the Roman people. After the dancing,
supper was announced. Royalty does not sup in pubHc
in Rome, as in England. The difference in etiquette is
curious. The King and Queen retired. We went in as
we pleased at ten o'clock, had seats, and supped glori-
ously ; the excellent Italian cookery, of which we have
spoken previously, was serv^ed admirably. The house-
keeping at the Quirinal is excellent.

The Queen of Italy moves about amongst the ambas-
sadors' wives, and summons any stranger to whom she
may wish to speak, to her side. A presentation to her
is more personal and gracious than a like honour at any
other court.

A presentation at court resolves itself into two advan-
tages. One sees the paraphernalia of royalty, always
amusing and interesting to American eyes. Americans
see its poetry, its almost vanished meaning, better than
others. Power, even when it descends for a day on
fresh Republican shoulders, is awe-inspiring. The boy
who is a leader at school is more important than the
boy who walks behind him. " A captain of thousands "
was an old Greek term for leadership, dignity, and
honour. Therefore it is not snobbery to desire to see
these people on whom have fallen the ermine of power.
It is snobbery to bow down before some unworthy
bearer of a title ; but when, as in the case of Marguerite
of Savoy, there is a very good, a very gifted, a very won-
derful woman behind it all, we are glad that she has
been born to wear all these jewels.

HOW ROYALTY ENTERTAINS. 35 I

We have in our minds one more scene, and a very
picturesque one. In September, 1888, the Due d'Aosta,
brother to King Humbert, married his niece, Letitia
Bonaparte, daughter of the Princess Clotilde and Prince
Jerome Bonaparte. This marriage occurred at Turin.
A fine week of autumn weather was devoted to this
ceremony. It was a great gathering of all the family of
Victor Emmanuel. The Pope had granted an especial
dispensation to the nearly related couple. The degree
of consanguinity so repellent to us, is not considered,
however, as prejudicial to marriage in Spain, Italy, or
Germany.

The King of Italy made this occasion of his brother's
marriage, an open door for returning to the old Italian
customs of past centuries, in the art of entertaining.
The city of Turin was en fete for the week. At booths,
in the open air, strolling companies were playing opera,
tragedy, burlesque, and farce. At the King's charge,
the streets were lined with gay decorations of pink and
white silk, banners and escutcheons; music was heard
everywhere, and at evening brilliant illuminations fol-
lowed the river.

When the royal cortege appeared on their way to a
public square they were preceded by six hundred
young cavaliers in the dress of Prince Eugene, pow-
dered hair, bright red and blue coats, each detachment
escorting a royal carriage. First came the King and
Queen, then the bridal pair.

They mounted a superb thing, like a basket of flowers,
in the Piazza Vittorio Emmanuel, where all the royalties
sat around the bride. Music and flags saluted them. The
vast crowd sat and looked at them for two hours. A
gayly decorated balloon, covered with roses, floated over

352 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

the Queen's head, and finally, as the rosy light faded
away, a gun from the fortress sounded the hour of de-
parture. The glittering cavalcade drove back to the
palace, and we foreigners knew that we had seen a real,
mediaeval Italian festa.

ENTERTAINING AT EASTER.

" There is a tender hue that tips the first young leaves of spring,
A trembling beauty in their notes when young birds learn to sing
A purer look when first on earth the gushing brook appears,
A liquid depth in infant eyes that fades with summer years."

IN the early days of ecumenical councils it was a
mooted point when Easter should be celebrated.
The Christian Jews kept the feast on the same day as
their Passover, the fourteenth of Nisan, the month corre-
sponding to our March or April ; but the Gentile church
observed the first Sunday following this, because Christ
rose from the dead on that day. It was not until the
fourth century that the Council of Nice decided upon
the first Sunday after the full moon which follows the
twenty- first of March. ' The contest was waged long and
heavily, but the Western churches were victorious ; a
vote settled it.

Perhaps this victory decided the later and more splen-
did religious ceremonials of Easter, which are much
more observed in Rome and in all Catholic countries
than those of Christmas. Constantine gratified his love
of display by causing Easter to be celebrated with un-
usual pomp and parade. Vigils and night watches were
instituted, people remaining all night in the churches in
Rome, and carrying high wax tapers through the streets
in processions.

23

354 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

People in the North, glad of an escape from four
months of darkness, watch to see the sun dawn on an
Easter morning. They have a superstitious feeling about
this observance, which came originally from Egypt, and
is akin to the legend that the statue of Memnon sings
when the first ray of the sun touches it.

It is the queen of feasts in all Catholic churches, the
world over. In early days, the fasting of Lent was re-
stricted to one day, the Friday of Passion Week, Good
Friday; then it extended to forty hours, then to forty
days, — showing how much fashion, even in churchly
aifairs, has to do with these matters. One witty author
says that, " people who do not believe in anything will
observe Lent, for it is the fashion."

Certainly, the little dinners of Lent, in fashionable
society, are amongst the most agreeable of all entertain-
ments. The creme d'ecrevissey the oyster and clam soups,
the newly arrived shad, the codfish a la royale and other
tempting dainties are very got»d, and the dinner being
small, and at eight o'clock, there is before it a long twi-
light for the drive in the Park.

A pope of Rome once offered a prize to the man who
would invent one thousand ways of cooking eggs, for
eggs can always be eaten in Lent, and let us hope that he
found them. The greatest coxcomb of all cooks, Louis
Ude, who was prone to demand a carriage and five thou-
sand a year, was famous for his little Lenten inenus, and
could cook fish and eggs marvellously. The amusements
of Lent have left one joke in New York. Roller skates
were once a very fashionable amusement for Lenten
afternoons, though now gone out, and a club had rented
Irving Hall for their playground and chosen Festina
Icntej " Make haste slowly," for their motto. It was a very

ENTERTAINING AT EASTER. 355

Witty motto, but some wise Malaprop remarked, " What a
very happy selection, ' Festivals of Lent ! ' "

However, Lent once passed, with its sewing circles and
small whist-parties, then comes the brilliant Easter, with
its splendid dinners, its weddings, its christenings and
caudle parties, its ladies' lunches, its Meadow Brook
hunt, its asparagus parties, and the chickens of gayety
which are hatched out of Easter eggs. It is a great day
for the confectioner. In Paris, that city full of gold and
misery, the splendour and luxury of the Easter egg bon-
bonniere is fabulous. A few years since a Paris house
furnished an Easter ^gg for a Spanish infanta, which cost
eight hundred pounds sterling.

Easter dinners can be made delightful. They are
simple, less heavy, hot, and stuffy, than those of mid-
winter. That enemy of the feminine complexion, the
furnace, is put out. It no longer sends up its direful
sirocco behind one's back. Spring lamb and mint
sauce, asparagus and fresh dandelion salad, replace the
heavy joint and the canned vegetables. A foreigner
said of us that we have everything canned, even the
canvas-back duck and the American opera. Every-
thing should be fresh. The ice-cream man devises
allegorical allusions in his forms, and there are
white dinners for young brides, and roseate dinners
for debiitajites.

For a gorgeous ladies' lunch, behold a menu. This is
for Easter Monday : —

Little Neck dams.
Chablis. Beef tea or consomme in cups.

Cdteleites de cervelles d. la cardinal. Cucumbers.
Little ducks with fresh mushrooms.
Champagne. Artichokes.

356 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Sweetbread h la Richelieu.

Asparagus, Hollandaise sauce.

Claret. Roman punch.

Pate de foie gras.

Roast snipe.

Tomato salad, lettuce.

Liqueur. Ice-creams, in form of nightingales' nests>

Strawberries, sugared fruit, nougat cakes.

Coffee.

Of course, a season of such rejoicing, when " Chris-
tians stand praying, each in an exalted attitude, with
outstretched hands and uphfted faces, expressing joy
and gladness," is thought to be very propitious for
marriage. There is generally a wedding every day,
excepting Friday, during Easter week. A favourite
spring travelling-dress for an Easter bride is fawn
coloured cashmere, with a little round hat and bunch
of primroses.

For a number of choir boys to sing an epithala-
mium, walking up the aisle before the bride, is a new
and very beautiful Easter fashion.

A favourite entertainment for Easter is a christening.
Christening parties are becoming very important func-
tions in the art of entertaining. Many Roman Catholics
are so anxious for the salvation of the little new soul,
that they have their children baptized as soon as possi-
ble, but others put off this important ceremony until
mamma can go to church, when little master is five
weeks old. Then friends are invited to the ceremony
very much in this fashion : —

Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton request the pleasure of your company
at the baptism of their infant daughter at the Cathedral, Monday,
March 30, at 12 o'clock. At home, after the ceremony, 14 W.
Ellicott Square.

ENTERTAINING AT EASTER. 3^7

Many wealthy Roman Catholics have private chapels
where the ceremony may be performed earlier.

Presents are sent to the mamma, of flowers and bon-
bonnieres shaped like an altar, a cradle, a powder-box ;
and there may be gold tea-scoops, pap-spoons and a
caudle-cup. Gifts of old Dutch silver and the inevita-
ble posy or couplet are very favourite gifts for the baby
and mamma on these auspicious occasions.

Caudle is a very succulent porridge made of oatmeal,
raisins, spices, and rum, all boiled together for several
days until it becomes a jelly gniel. It is very much
sweetened, and is served hot in cups. The caudle-cup
designed by Albrecht Diirer for some member of the
family of Maximilian is still shown. Caudle cards are
very often stamped with a cameo resemblance of these
cups, and the invitation reads : —

Mrs. James Hamilton,
at Home,
Thursday, March 30, from three to six.
Caudle.

These do not require an answer.

Very pretty tea-gowns are worn by mamma and the
ladies of her family for this entertainment, but the
guests come in bonnets and street dresses. There is no
objection to having the afternoon tea-table with its
silver tea-kettle, alcohol-lamp, pretty silver tea-set, plates
of bread and butter, and little cakes ready for those
ladies who prefer tea. Caudle is sometimes added to
the teas of a winter afternoon, by the remnants of old
Dutch families, even when there is no little master as a
raison d'etre^ and delicious it is.

There is a pretty account of the marriage of Margue-
rite of Austria with Philibert, the handsome Duke of

35 S "THE ART OF ENTERTAINING. /

Savoy. It is called Mai'iage aux ceufs. She had come
to the Castle of Brae, in the charming district of
Bresse lying on the western slopes of the Alps. Here
the rich princess kept open house, and Philibert, who
was hunting in the neighbourhood, came to pay his court
to her. It was Easter Monday, and high and low
danced together on the green. The old men drew
their bows on a barrel filled with wine, and when one
succeeded in planting his arrow firmly in it he was privi-
leged to drink as much as he pleased ///j-^?/'^ me7'ci.

A hundred eggs were scattered in a level place,
covered with sand, and a lad and lass, holding each
other by the hand, came forward to execute a dance of
the country. According to the ancient custom, if they
succeeded in finishing the brajile without breaking a
single ^gg they became affianced, and even the will of
their parents might not avail to break their union.
Three couples had already tried it unsuccessfully and
shouts of laughter derided their attempts, when the
sound of a horn was heard, and Phihbert of Savoy,
radiant with youth and happiness, appeared on the scene.
Pie bent his knees before the noble chatelaine and be-
sought her hospitality. He proposed to her to try the
^gg fortune. She accepted. Their grace and beauty
charmed the lookers-on and they succeeded, without a
single crash, in treading the perilous maze.

" Savoy and Austria ! " shouted the crowd. And she
said, " Let us adopt the custom of Bresse."

They were married, and enjoyed a few years of ex-
quisite happiness ; then the beloved husband died.
Marguerite survived him long, but never forgot him.
She built in his memory a beautiful church. Travellers
go to-day to see their magnificent tomb.

ENTERTAINING AT EASTER. 359

The egg has been in all ages and in all countries the
sibject of infinite mystery, legend, and history. The
ancient Finns believed that a mystic bird laid an egg in
the lap of Vaimainon, who hatched it in his bosom. He
let it fall in the water, and it broke. The lower portion
of the shell formed the earth, the upper the sky, the
liquid white became the sun, the yolk the moon, while
little bits of egg-shells became the stars.

Old English and Irish nurses instruct the children,
when they have eaten a boiled egg, to push the spoon
through the bottom of the shell to hinder the witches
from making a boat of it.

It is difficult to ascertain the precise origin of the cus-
tom of offering eggs at the festival of Easter. The Per-
sians, the Russians, and the Jews all follow it.

Amongst the Romans the year began at Easter, as it
did amongst the Franks under the Capets. Many pres-
ents are exchanged, and as an egg is the beginning of all
things, nothing better could be found as an offering.
Its symbolic meaning is striking. We offer our friends
all the blessings contained under that fragile shell, whose
fragility represents that of happiness here below. The
Romans commenced their repasts with an egg ; hence
the proverbial phrase, " ab ovo usque ad mala^^ or, as
we still say, "beginning ab ozw^

Another reason given for the Easter egg is that, about
the fourth century, the Church forbade the use of eggs in
Lent. But as the heretical hens would go on laying,
the eggs accumulated to such a degree that they were
boiled hard and given away. They were given to the
children for playthings, and they dyed them of gay
colours. In certain churches in Belgium the priests, at
the beginning of a glad anthem, threw the eggs at the

36o THE ART OF ENTERTAINING. /

choristers who threw them back again, dancing to the
music whilst catching the frail eggs that they might not
break.

In Germany, where means are more limited than in
France, the Easter egg boiibonniei-e is rare. There are
none of the eight-hundred-pound kind, which was made
of enamel, and which on its inside had engraved the
gospel for the day, while by an ingenious mechanism a
little bird, lodged in this pretty cage, sang twelve airs
from as many operas.

But in Germany, to make up for this poverty, they
have transformed the hare into an oviparous animal, and
in the pastry cook's windows one sees this species of hen
sitting upright in a nest surrounded by eggs. I have
often wondered if that inexplicable saying "a mare's
nest," might not have been " a hare's nest." As a Incus
a noil lucendo it would have done as well. When a
German child, at any season of the year, sees a hare
run across the field, he says, " Hare, good little hare,
lay plenty of eggs for me on Easter day." It is the
custom of German families, on Easter eve, to place sugar-
eggs and real eggs, the former filled with sugar plums,
in a nest, and then to conceal it with dried leaves in the
garden that the joyous children may hunt for them on
Easter morning.

It is a superstition all over the world that we should
wear new clothes on Easter Day. Bad luck will follow
if there is not at least one article which is new.

HOW TO ENTERTAIN CHILDREN.

From the realms of old-world story

There beckons a lily hand,
That calls up the sweetness, the glory,

The sounds of a magic land.

Ah, many a time in my dreaming

Through that blessed region I roam !
Then the morning sun comes with its beaming

And scatters it all like foam '

Heine.

IN the life of Madame Swetchine we read the following
account of the amusements of a clever child : —

" The occupation of a courtier did not prevent Mon-
sieur Soymonof from bestowing the most assiduous care on
the education of a daughter, who for six years was his
only child. He was struck by the progress of her young
intellect. She showed an aptitude for languages, music,
and drawing, while she developed firmness of character,
— a rare quality in a child.

" She desired a watch with an ardour which transpired
in all her movements, and her father had promised her
one. The watch came and was worn with the keenest
enjoyment ; but suddenly a new thought seized upon the
little Sophia. She reflected that there was something
better than a watch. To relinquish it of her own accord,
she hurried to her father and restored to him the object
of her passionate desires, acknowledging the motive. Her

362 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

father looked at her, took the watch, shut it up in a bureau
drawer, and said no more about it.

" M. Soymonof's rooms were adorned with bronzes,
medals, and costly marbles. Sophia was on terms of
intimacy with these personages of fable and history ; but
she felt an unconquerable repugnance to a cabinet full
of mummies. The poor child blushed for her weakness,
and one day, when alone, opened the terrible door, ran
straight to the nearest mummy, took it up, and embraced
it till her strength and courage gave away, and she fell
down in a swoon. At the noise of her fall, her father
hastened in, raised her in his arms, and obtained from
her, not without difficulty, an avowal of the terrors which
she had hitherto concealed from him. But this supreme
effort was as good for her as a victory. From that day
the mummies were to her only common objects of in-
terest and curiosity.

"Studious as was her education, M. Soymonof did
not banish dolls. His daughter loved them as friends
and preserved this taste beyond her childish years, but
elevated it by the admixture of an intellectual and often
dramatic interest. Her dolls were generally of the
largest size. She gave them each a name and part to
act, established connected relations between the differ-
ent individuals, and kept up animated dialogues which
occupied her imagination vividly, and became a means
of instruction. Playing dolls was for her an introduction
to ethics and a knowledge of the world.

" Catherine's court was a succession of continual /^/^>f.
The fairy pantomimes performed at the Hermitage were
the first to strike the imagination of the child, who as
yet could not relish the tragedies of Voltaire. She com-
posed a ballet ^NhXch she called ' The Faithful Shepherdess

HOW TO ENTERTAIN CHILDREN. 363

and the Fickle Shepherdess.' She writes in her sixtieth
year : ' One of the Hvehest pleasures of my childhood
was to compose festive decorations which I loved to
light up and arrange upon the white marble chimney-
piece of my schoolroom. The ardour which I threw
into designing, cutting out, and painting transparencies,
and finding emblems and mottoes for them was some-
thing incredible. My heart beat high while the prepa-
rations were in progress but the moment my illumina-
tion began to fade an ineffable devouring melancholy
seized me.' "

This extract is invaluable not only for its historic im-
portance, but for the keynote which it sounds to a
child's nature. The noble little Russian girl at the
court of Catherine of Russia found only those pleasures
lasting which came from herself, and when she could
invest the fairy pantomime with her own personality.

A fairy pantomime is possible to the poorest child if
some superior intelligence, an older sister or aunt, will
lend her help. The fairies can all be of pasteboard,
with strings as the motive power. There can be no
cheaper coj'ps de ballet, nor any so amusing.

"You have done much for your child" is an expres-
sion we often hear. " You have had a nurse, a nursery
governess, a fine pony for your boy, you take your
children often to the play and give them dancing parties,
and yet they are not happy." It is the sincere regret
of many a mamma that she cannot make her children
happy. Yet in a large town, in a house shut up from
our cold winter blasts, what can she do? A good dog
and a kind-hearted set of servants will solve the problem
better than all the intellect in the world. Grandmamma
brings a doll to the little girl, who looks it over and

364 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

says : '' The dolly cannot be undressed, 1 do not want
it." It is the dressing and the undressing which are the
delights of her heart.

A boy wants to make a noise, first of all things. Let
him have a large upper room, a drum, a tambourine, a
ball, and there he should be allowed to kick out the
eifervescence of early manhood. Do not follow him
with all manner of prohibitions. Constant nagging
and fault-finding is an offence against a child's paradise.
Put him in a room for certain hours of the day where
no one need say, " Get down ! don't do that ! don't make
so much noise ! " Let him roar, and shout, and climb
over chairs and tables, and tear his gown, and work off
his exuberance, and then he will be very glad to have
his hands and face washed and listen to a story, or
come down to meet papa with a smiling countenance.

Children should be allowed to have pet birds, kittens,
dogs, and as much live stock as the house will hold ; it
develops their sympathies. When a bird dies, and the
floodgates of the poor little heart are opened, sympathize
with it. It is cruel to laugh at childish woe. Never
refuse a child sympathy in joy or sorrow. This lack of
sympathy has made more criminals than anything else.

Children should never be deceived either in the tak-
ing of medicine or the administration of knowledge.
One witty writer a few years ago spoke of the bad influ-
ence of good books. He declared that reading *' that
Tommy was a good boy and kept his pinafore clean and
rose to affluence, while Harry flung stones and told fibs
and was carried off by robbers," dev^eloped his sympa-
thies for Harry ; and that although he was naturafly a
good boy he went, for pure hatred of the virtuous
Tommy, to the river's brink and helped a bad boy to

HOW TO ENTERTAIN CHILDREN. 365

drown his aunt's cat, and then went home and wrote
a prize composition called " Frank the Friendless, or
Honesty is Best." All this was because the boy saw
that Tommy was a prig, that his virtue was of that kind
mentioned in Jane Eyre, in which the charity child was
asked whether she would rather learn a hymn or receive
a cake; she said "Learn a hymn," whereupon she re-
ceived " two cakes as a reward for her infant piety."
Children cannot be humbugged ; they can be made into
hypocrites, however, by too many good books.

The best entertainment for children is to let them
play at being useful. Let the little girl get papa's slip-
pers, brush his hat, even if the wrong way, find his walk-
ing stick, hold the yarn for grandma's knitting, or rock
her brother's cradle, and she will be happy. Give the
boy a printing-press or some safe tools, let him make
a garden, feed his chickens, or clean out the cage of his
pet robin, and he will be happy. Try to make them
think and decide for themselves. A little girl says,
" I don't know which dress to put on my dolly. Mamma,
which shall I?" The mamma will be wise if she says,
" You must decide, you know dolly best."

When a child is ill or nervous, the great hour of
despair comes to the mamma. A person without nerves,
generally a good coloured mammy, is the best playmate,
and a dog is invaluable. It is touching to see the smile
come to the poor bloodless lips in a hospital ward, as a
great, big, kindly dog puts his cold nose out to reach
a little feverish hand. There is a sympathy in nature
which intellect loses.

Madame Swetchine's fear of the mummies has an-
other lesson in it. Children are born with pet aversions,
as well as with that terrible fear which is so much

366 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

bigger than they are. The first of their rights to be
respected is that they shall not be frightened, and shall
not be too seriously blamed for their aversions. Buffalo
Bill, who knows more about horses than most people,
says that no horse is bom bad ; that he is made a buck-
ing horse, a skittish horse, or a stumbling horse by be-
ing badly trained, — misunderstood when he was young.
How true this is of human nature ! How many vil-
lains are developed by an unhappy childhood ! How
many scoundrels does the boys' hall turn out ! We
must try to find these skeletons in the closet, this im-
prisoned spectre which haunts the imaginative child,
and lay the ghost by sympathy and by common- sense.
Cultivating the imagination, not over-feeding it or starv-
it, would seem to be the right way.

Perhaps there are no better ways of entertaining chil-
ciren than by a juggler, the magic lantern, and simple
scientific experiments. We use the term advisedly.
Jugglery was the oldest of the sciences. Aaron and
Moses tried it. One of the most valuable solaces for
an invalid child — one with a broken leg, or some com-
plaint which necessitates bed and quiet — is an experi-
ment in natural magic.

One of these simple tricks is called "The Balanced
Coin." Procure a bottle, cork it, and in the cork place
a needle. Take another cork, and cut a slit in it, so
that the edge of a dollar will fit into it ; then put two
forks into the upper cork. Place the edge of the coin,
which holds the upper cork and forks, on the point
of the needle, and it will revolve without falling. This
will amuse an imprisoned boy all the afternoon.

The revolving image is a most amusing gentleman.
Let poor Harry make this himself. Cut a little man

HOW TO ENTERTAIN CHILDREN. 367

out of a thin bit of wood, making him end in one leg,
like a peg-top, instead of in two. Give him a pair
of long arms, shaped like oars. Then place him on the
tip of your finger, and blow; he will stand there and
rotate, like an undecided politician.

The Spanish dancer is another nice experiment. Cut
a figure out of pasteboard, and gum one foot on the
inverted side of a watch-glass ; then place the watch-
glass on a Japan waiter or a clean plate. Hold the
plate slanting, and they will slide down ; but drop a
little water on the waiter or plate, and instead of the
watch-glass sliding, it will begin to revolve, and con-
tinue to revolve with increased velocity as the experi-
mentalist chooses. This is in consequence of the
cohesion of water to the two surfaces, by which a new
force is introduced. These experiments are endless,
and will serve a variety of purposes, the principal being
that of entertaining.

To take children to the pantomime at Christmas is
the universal law in England. We have seldom the
pantomime here. We have the circus, the menagerie,
and the play. A real play is better for children than a
burlesque, and it is astonishing to see how soon a child
can understand even Hamlet.

To allow children to play themselves in a fairy tale,
such as " Cinderella," is a doubtful practice. The ex-
posure, the excitement, the late hours, the rehearsals,
are all bad for young nerves ; but they can play at
home if it is in the daytime.

When boys and girls get old enough for dancing-
parties, nothing can be more amusing than the sight
of the youthful followers of Terpsichore. It is a healthy
amusement, and if kept within proper hours, and fol-

368 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

lowed by a light snpper only, is the most fitting of all
children's amusements. Do not, however, make little
men and women of them too soon. That is lamentable.

As for ruses and catch-games hke '' The Slave De-
spoiled," "The Pigeon Fhes," "The Sorcerer behind
the Screen," "The Knight of the Whistle," "The
Witch," "The Tombola," one should buy one of the
cheap manuals of games found at any bookstore, and a
clever boy should read up, and put himself in touch
with this very easy way of passing an evening.

The games requiring wit and intelHgence are many;
as " The Bouquet," " The Fool's Discourse," which has
a resemblance to " Cross Questions," "The Secretary,"
"The Culprit's Seat." All these need a good memory
and a ready wit. All mistakes are to be redeemed by
forfeit.

Of the games to be played with pencil and paper,
none is funnier than "The Narrative," in which the
leader decides on the title, and gives it out to the com-
pany. It may be called "The Fortunate and Unfor-
tunate Adventures of Miss Palmer." The words to be
used may be " history," " reading," " railway accident,"
"nourishment," "pleasures," '-four-in-hand," etc. The
paper has a line written, and is folded and handed thus
to the next, — each writer giving Miss Palmer whatever
adventures he pleases, only bringing in the desired
word. The result is incoherent, but amusing, and Miss
Palmer becomes a heroine of romance.

There are some children, as there are some grown
people, who have a natural talent for games. It is a
great help in entertaining children to get hold of a born
leader.

The game called " The Language of Animals " is

HOW TO ENTERTAIN CHILDREN. 369

one for philosophers. Each player takes his pencil
and paper, and describes the feelings, emotions, and
passions of an animal as if he were one. As, for in-
stance, the dog would say : " I feel anger, like a human
being. I am sometimes vindictive, but generally for-
giving. I suffer terribly from jealousy. My envy leads
me to eat more than I want, because I do not wish
Tray to get it. Gluttony is my easily besetting sin, but
I never got drunk in my life. I love my master better
than any one ; and if he dies, I mourn him till death.
My worst sorrow is being lost ; but my delights are
never chilled by expectation, so I never lose the edge
of my enjoyments by over-raised hopes. I want to run
twenty miles a day, but I like to be with my master
in the evening. I love children dearly, and would die
for any boy : I would save him from drowning. I can-
not wag my tongue, but I can wag my tail to express
my emotion."

The cat says : '^ I am a natural diplomatist, and
I carry on a great secret service so that nobody
knows anything about it. I do not care for my master
or mistress, but for the house and the hearth-rug. I
am very frugal, and have very little appetite. I kill
mice because I dislike them, not that I like them for
food. Oh, no ! give me the cream -jug for that. I
am always ready to do any mischief on the sly ; and so
if any one else does anything, always say, * It was the
cat.' I have no heart, by which I escape much misery.
I have a great advantage over the dog, as he lives but
a few years and has but one life. I have a long life,
and nine of them ; but why the number nine is always
connected with me, I do not know. Why ' cat-o-nine-
tails? ' Why 'A cat has nine lives,' etc.? "

24

3^70 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Thus, for children's entertaining we have the same
necessities as for grown people. Some one must begin ;
some one must suggest ; some one must tell how. All
society needs a leader. It may be for that reason our
own grown-up society is a little chaotic.

Perhaps the story of Madame Swetchine and her
watch conveys a needed moral. Do not deluge chil-
dren with costly gifts. Do not thus deprive them of the
pleasures of hope. Anticipation is the dearest part
of a child's life, and an overfed child, suffering from the
pangs of dyspepsia, is no more to be pitied than the
poor little gorged, overburdened child, who has more
books than he can read and more toys than he can ever
play with. Remember, too, " Dr. Blimber's Young
Gentlemen," and their longing jealousy of the boy in
the gutter.

CHRISTMAS AND CHILDREN.

" Then I stooped for a bunch of holly
Which had fallen on the floor,
And there fell to the ground as I lifted it
A berry — or something more;
And after it fell my eyes could see
More clearly than before !
But oh! for the red Christingle
That never was missing of yore,
And oh ! for the red Christingle
That I miss forever more ! "

CHRISTINGLES are not much known in this coun-
try. They are made by piercing a hole in an
orange, putting a piece of quill three or four inches
long, set upright, in the hole, and usually a second piece
inside this. Each quill is divided into several slips, each
one of which is loaded with a raisin. The weight of the
raisins bends down the little boughs, giving two circles
of pendants. A coloured taper is placed in the upper
quill and lighted on Christmas Eve. The custom is a
German one.

The harbinger of Christmas, in Holland, is a Star of
Bethlehem carried along through the cities by the young
men who pick up alms for the poor. They gather much
money, for all come to welcome this symbol of peace.
They then betake themselves to the head burgomaster
of the town, who is bound to give them a good meal.

The little Russian, amid the snows, looks for the red
candle and the Christmas Tree, and the ice is all alight

372 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

with gay illuminations. The Httle Roman boy watches
with delight the preparation for the Beffatia in the public
squares of Rome. For the Beffana is the witch who
rides on a broomstick ; she is a female Santa Claus, who
brings presents to a good child and a bunch of rods to a
bad one. Her worship is celebrated on Christmas Eve
to the sound of trumpets and all manner of unearthly
noises. Then the boy goes to the Church of the Augus-
tins, to see the little Jesus Child lying in the lap of his
Holy Mother. He hears the most charming music, and
singing choristers swing the censer before the Host.
Above his head Saint Michael fights with the dragon. He
sees the splendid procession of the cardinals in their
gorgeous red and white robes, and as he goes down the
broad marble steps, on each side of which beautiful statues
stand in niches, his mother, poor Dominica, peasant of
the Campagna, kneels and makes the sign of the cross,
and tells her boy that this is Christmas, the day on which
the Jesus Child was born to take his sins away. Again
he wanders with her through the market-place ; every one
gives him playthings, fruits, and cakes ; a rich foreigner
tosses him a coin. The little Antonio asks why, and his
mother tells him it is Christmas, but not so gay as when
she was a little girl, for then the pifferaji, the shepherds
from the mountains, came, in their short cloaks with rib-
bons around their pointed hats, to play on their bagpipes
before every image of the Virgin. Then they go again
to the Church, the beautiful Church of Ara Coeli, to hear
the angel girls make Christmas speeches to welcome
the little Christ-child, and as he looks at the image
of the Madonna, all hung with jewels, he wishes it were
Christmas all the year round.

The Christmas tree dates back to the Druids, but

CHRISTMAS AND CHILDREN. 373

seems to have disappeared from England for several
centuries. Meantime, it blossomed in Germany, where,
under the tender and soft Scandinavian influence which
has such an admirable and ameliorating effect on homely-
German life, it has continued to bear its fruit for six
hundred years. It came back to England in the days of
Queen Charlotte, who, true to her German associations,
had a tree dressed at Kew Palace in the rooms of her
German attendant. It was hung, writes the Hon. Amelia
Murray, with gifts for the children, " who were invited to
see it; and I remember," she says, "what a pleasure it
was to hunt for one's name."

The "^Mayflower," which brought much else that was
good, forgot the Christmas tree. It was not until the
beginning of the present century that one could be seen
near Plymouth Rock. Men and women now living
can remember when Washington Irving's " Sketch-book "
told to them the first story of an English Christmas, and
some brave women determined to hang a few boughs
and red berries around the cold, barren church.

Then the tree began to bud and bourgeon with gifts,
and the rare glories of colour crept in upon the snows
of winter. The red fire on the hearth, the red berries
on the mantel, brought in the light which grew pale in
winter, the hospitality and the cheer of the turkey and
plum-pudding went around, and Christmas carols began
to be sung by men of Puritan antecedents. Old Christ-
mas, frightened away at first by a few fanatics, came at
last to America to stay, and the mistletoe, prettiest, most
wierd, most artistic of parasites, was removed from
dreary Druidical associations, and no longer assists at
human sacrifices, — unless some mysogynist may so con-
sider the getting of husbands.

374 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

The English Christmas is the typical one in the art of
entertaining. In every country neighbourhood, public
county balls are conducted with great pomp during the
twelve days of Christmas. From all the great houses
within ten or fifteen miles come large parties, dressed in
the latest London fashions, among them the most distin-
guished lights of the London world. Country residents
are also conspicuous, and for people who live altogether
in the country this is the chosen occasion for the first
introduction of a daughter into society. The town hall
or any other convenient building is beautifully dressed
with holly and mistletoe. The band is at the upper end
and the different sets form exclusive groups about the
room, seldom mixing even in the Virginia Reel and
other country dances.

The private festivities of Christmas consist of a dinner
to the tenantry and a large one to the family, all of
whose members are expected. The mistletoe is hung
conspicuously from the great lantern in the hall, or over
the stag's head at the door. The rooms are wreathed
with holly, each picture is framed in it, and the ladies
put the red berries in their hair and all over their dresses.
The customary turkey, a mighty bird, enters, making an
event at the dinner, while later on, a plum-pudding, all
ablaze, with a sprig of holly in the midst, makes another
sensation. Mince-pies are set on fire with the aid of a lit-
tle alcohol, which is poured over them from a small silver
ladle. After the dinner, is passed the loving cup, a silver
cup with two handles, containing a hot, spiced, sweetened
ale. It has two mouths, and as it is lifted its weight
requires both hands.

In England, Christmas and New Year's still keep some
pf the mediaeval village customs. Men go about ii)

CHRISTMAS AND CHILDREN. 375

motley, imitating quacks and fortune-tellers, and there is
much noise and tooting of horns. These mummers are
sent to the servants' hall, where a plentiful supper and
horns of ale await them. The waits, or carol singers,
are another remnant of old Christmas. In remote parts
of England the stables are lighted, to prove that man
has not forgotten the Child born and laid in a man-
ger. As for the parish festivities, in which the hall
has so prominent a part, the school feasts, the blankets
for the poor, the clothing-club meetings at Martinmas,
all has been told us in novels, which have also given
us many a picture of comfortable and stately English
hfe.

The modern English squire does not, however, eat,
drink, and make merry for twelve days, as he used. The
wassail-bowl is broken at the fountain, and mince-pies
and goose-pies and yule-cakes are thought to be heavy
for modern digestion. But the good cheer remains.

The noblest as well as the humblest of all English
houses, especially in Yorkshire, keep up the old supersti-
tion of lighting the Yule log, "the ponderous ashen
fagot from the yard," and great ill-luck is foretold if its
flame dies out before Twelfth Night. Frumenty, which
is a porridge boiled with milk, sugar, wine, spices, and
raisins, is served. It was in a cup of frumenty, as every
conscientious reader of fairy stories will remember, that
Tom Thumb was dropped by his careless nurse. The
Christmas pie of Yorkshire, is a "brae goose-pie " which
Herrick in one of his delightful verses thus defends :

"Come guard this night the Christmas pie,
That the thiefe, though ne'er so slie,
With his fleshhooks, don't come nie
To catch it.

376 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

" From him who all alone sits there,
Having his eyes still in his eare,
And a deale of nightly feare

To watch it."

In America, the young people are utilizing Christmas
day as they do in England, if there is no frost, to go a-
hunting. Afternoon tea, under the mistletoe in the hall
of a country house, is generally taken in a riding habit.

In most families it is a purely domestic festival ;
although, as the tree has been enjoyed the night before,
when Santa Claus, the great German sprite, has held his
revels, there is no reason why a grand dinner to one's
friends should not be given. And let us plead that the
turkey, our great national bird, may not be cooked by
gas. He is so much better roasted before a wood fire.

There are some difficulties in giving a Christmas
dinner in a large city, as nearly all the waiters are sure
to be drunk, and the cook has also, perhaps, been at the
frumenty. Being a religious as well as a social festival,
it is apt to bring about a confusion of ideas. But, every-
thing else apart, it is Children's Day ; it is the day when,
as Dickens says, we should remember the time when its
great Founder was a child Himself. It is especially the
day for the friendless young, the children in hospitals,
the lame, the sick, the weary, the blind. No child
should be left alone on Christmas Day, for loneliness
with children means brooding. A child growing up
with no child friend is not a child at all, but a premature
man or woman.

The best Christmas present to a boy is a box of tools,
the best to a girl any number of dolls. After dressing
and undressing them, giving them a bath, taking them
through a fit of sickness, punishing them, and giving

CHRISTMAS AND CHILDREN. 3/7

them an airing in the park, — for Uttle maidens begin to
imitate mamma at a very early age, — the next best amuse-
ment is to manufacture a doll's house. The brother must
plane the box, — an old wine box will do, — and fit in
it four compartments, each of which must be elaborately
papered. Then a " real carpet " must be nailed down
and pictures hung on the wall. These bits, framed with
gold paper, usually require mamma's help. The kitchen
must be fitted up with tins, which perhaps had better be
bought, but after the b after ie de cuisine is finished, then
the chairs and beds should be made at home. Card-
board boxes can be cut into excellent doll's beds.
Pillows, bolsters, mattress, sheets, pillow-cases, will keep
little fingers busy for many days.

When they get older, and can write letters, a post-
office is a delightful boon. These are to be bought, but
they are far more amusing if made at home. Any good-
sized card-box will do for this purpose. The lid should
be fastened to it so that when it stands up it will open
like a door. A slit must be cut out about an inch wide,
and from five to six inches long, so as to allow the
postage of small parcels, yet not large enough even to
admit the smallest hand. Children should learn to
respect the inviolate character of the post from the
earliest age.

On the door should be written the times of the post.
Most children are fond of writing letters to one another,
and this will of course give rise to a grand manufacture
of note paper, envelopes, and post-cards, and will call
forth ingenuity in designing and colouring monograms
and crests, for their note paper and envelopes. An en-
velope must be taken carefully to pieces, to form a flat
pattern. Then those cut from it have to be folded,

37^ THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

gummed together, a touch of gum put on the flap ant*
the monogram made to correspond. It is wonderful
what occupation this gives for weeks. A paint-box
should be also amongst the Christmas gifts.

Capital scrap-books can be made by children. Old
railway guides may be the foundation, and every illus-
trated paper the magazine of art. A paste-pot, next to a
paint-box, is a most serviceable toy.

Children like to imitate their elders. A little boy of
two years enjoys smoking a pipe as he sees grandpapa
smoke, and knocks out imaginary ashes, as he does,
against the door.

Hobby horses are profitable steeds, and can be made
to go through any amount of paces. But mechanical
toys are more amusing to his elders than to the child,
who wishes to do his own mechanism. A boy can be
amused by turning him out of the house, giving him a
ball or a kite, or letting him dig in the ground for the
unhappy mole. Little girls, who must be kept in, on
a rainy day, or invalid children, are very hard to amuse
and recourse must be had to story-telling, to the dear
delightful thousand and one books now written for
children, of which ^' Alice in Wonderland " is the flower
and perfection.

For communities of children, as in asylums and
schools, there is nothing like music, songs, and marches ;
anything to keep them in time and tune. It removes
for a moment that institutionized look which has so
unhappy an efl"ect.

Happy is the child who has inherited a garret full of
old trunks, old furniture, old pictures, any kind of old
things. It is a precious inheritance. Given the dra-
matic instinct and a garret, and a family of quick-witted

CHRISTMAS AND CHILDREN. 379

boys and girls will have amusement long after the
Christmas holidays are passed.

It would be a great amusement for weeks before
Christmas, if children were taught to make the orna-
ments for the tree, as is done in economical Germany.
Here the ideas of secrecy and mystery are so associated
with Santa Claus that such an idea would be rejected.
But a thing is twice as interesting if we put ourselves
into it.

At Christmas time let us invoke the fairies. They,
the gentry, the wee people, the good people, are very
dear to the real little wee people, who see the fun and
do not believe too much in them. The fairies who
make their homes under old trees and resort to toad-
stools for shelter, and who make invisible excursions
into farmhouses have afforded the Irish nurse no end of
legends. An old nurse once held a magnificent position
in the nursery because she had seen a fairy.

The Christmas green was once the home of the peace-
loving wood-sprite. Christmas evergreens and red
berries make the most effective interior decorations,
their delightful fragrance, their splendid colour renders
the palace more beautiful, and the humble house attrac-
tive. Before Twelfth Night, January 6, they must all
be taken down. The festivities of this great day were
much celebrated in mediaeval times, and the picture by
Rubens, " The King Drinks," recalls the splendour of
these feasts. It is called Kings' Day to commemorate
the three kings of Orient, who paid their visit to the
humble manger, bringing those first Christmas gifts of
which we have any account.

The negroes from Africa, who were brought as slaves
to the West Indian Islands, always celebrate this day

38o THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

with queer and fetich rites. It is in honour of the black
king Melchior whom we see in the pictures "from
Afric's sunny fountains."

The Twelfth-Night cake, crowned with candles, is cut
and eaten with many ceremonies on this occasion. The
universality of Christmas is its most remarkable feature.
Trace it as one will to the ancient Saturnalia, this uni-
versality is still inexplicable. It long antedates the Chris-
tian era. The distinctly modern customs are the giving
of gifts, and the good eating, which, if followed back, we
find to have been gluttony among the Norsemen.

To the older members of the family the day is a sad
one. The little verse at the head of the chapter recalls
the fact that for every child gone back to heaven, there
is one Christingle less. But if it will bring the rich to
the poor, if it will not forget a single legend or grace, if
the holly and evergreen will breathe the sweetest and
highest significance, if we can remember that every sim-
ple festival at Christmas which makes the hearth-stone
brighter is a tribute to the highest wisdom, if we con-
nect Christmas and humanity, then shall we keep it aright.
For the world unlocks its heart on every Christmas Day
as it has done for eighteen Christian centuries. The cairn
of Christmas memories rises higher and higher as the dear
procession of children, those constantly arriving, precious
pilgrims from the unknown world, halts by the majestic
mountain to receive gifts, giving more than they take.
For what would Christmas be without the children?

CERTAIN PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS.

THE rules laid down in books of etiquette may
seem preposterously elaborate and absurd to
the denizens of cities, and to those who have had the
manual of society at their fingers' ends from childhood,
but they may be like the grammar of an unknown
tongue to the youth or maiden whose life has been spent
in seclusion or a rustic neighbourhood. As it is the aim
of this unpretending volume to assist such young peo-
ple, a few hints to young men coming fresh from Ufe on
the plains, or from an Eastern or Western college, from
any life which has separated them from the society of
ladies, may not be considered impertinent.

A young man on coming into a great city, or into a new
place where he is not known, should try to bring a few let-
ters of introduction. If he can bring such a letter to any
lady of good social position, he has nothing further to do
but deliver it, and if she takes him up and introduces
him, his social position is made. But this good fortune
cannot always be commanded. Young men often pass
through a lonely life in a great city, never finding that
desired opportunity.

To some it comes through a friendship on the tennis
ground, at the clubs, or .through business. If a friend
says to some ladies that Tilden is a good fellow, Tilden
will be sought out and invited. It is hardly creditable
to any young man to live in a great city without know-

382 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

ing the best ladies' society. He should seek to do so, and
perhaps the simplest way would be for him to ask some
friend to take him about and to introduce him. Once
introduced, Tilden should be particular not to transcend
the delicate outlines of social suffrance. He must not
immediately rush into an intimacy.

A call should never be too long. A woman of the
world says that one hour is all that should be granted to
a caller. This rule is a good one for an evening visit. It
is much better to have one's hostess wishing for a longer
visit than to have her sigh that you should go. In a first
visit, a gentleman should always send in his card. After
that he may dispense with that ceremony.

A gentleman, for an evening visit, should always be in
evening dress, black cloth dress-coat, waistcoat, and
trousers, faultless linen and white cravat, silk stockings,
and polished low shoes. A black cravat is permissible,
but it is not full dress. He should carry a crush hat in
his hand, and a cane if he likes. For a dinner-party a
white cravat is indispensable ; a man must wear it then.
No jewelry of any kind is fashionable, excepting rings.
Men hide their watch chains, in evening dress.

The hands should be especially cared for, the nails
carefully cut and trimmed. No matter how big or how red
the hand is, the more masculine the better. Women
like men to look manly, as if they could drive, row,
play ball, cricket, perhaps even handle the gloves.

A gentleman's dress should be so quiet and so perfect
that it will not excite remark or attention. Thackeray
used to advise that a watering-pot should be applied to
a new hat to take off the gloss. The suspicion of being
dressed up defeats an otherwise good toilet.

We will suppose that Tilden becomes sufficiently well

CERTAIN PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. 383

acquainted to be asked to join a theatre party. He must
be punctual at the rendezvous, and take as a partner
whomever the hostess may assign him, but in the East
he must not offer to send a carriage ; that must come
from the giver of the party. In this. Eastern and
Western etiquette are at variance, for in certain cities
in the West and South a gentleman is expected to call
in a carriage, and take a young lady to a party. To
do this would be social ruin in Europe, nor is it al-
lowed in Boston or New York. If, however, Tilden
wishes to give a theatre party, he must furnish every-
thing. He first asks a lady to chaperon his party. He
must arrange that all meet at his room, or a friend's
house. He must charter an omnibus or send carriages
for the whole party; he must buy the tickets. He is
then expected to invite his party to sup with him after
the theatre, making the feast as handsome as his means
allow. This is a favourite and proper manner for a
young man to return the civilities offered him. It is
indispensable that he should have the mother of one
of the young ladies present. The custom of having
such a party with only a very young chaperon has fallen,
properly, into disrepute. And it seems almost unnec-
essary to say so, except that the offence has been
committed.

A man should never force himself into any society, or
go anywhere unasked. Of course, if he be taken by a
lady, she assumes the responsibility, and it is an under-
stood thing that a leader of society can take a young
man anywhere. She is his sponsor.

In the early morning a young man should wear the
heavy, loosely fitting English clothes now so fashionable,
but for an afternoon promenade with a lady, or for a re-

3^4 tHE ART OF ENTERtAlNtNG.

ception, a frock coat tightly buttoned, gray trousers, a
neat tie, and plain gold pin is very good form. This
dress is allowed at a small dinner in the country, or for
a Sunday tea.

If men are in the Adirondacks, if flannel is the only
wear, there is no dressing for dinner ; but in a country
house, where there are guests, it is better to make a full
evening toilet, unless the hostess gives absolution. There
should always be some change, and clean linen, a fresh
coat, fresh shoes, etc., donned even in the quiet retirement
of one's own home. Neatness, a cold bath every morn-
ing, and much exercise in the open air are among the
admirable customs of young gentlemen of the present
day. If every one of them, no matter how busy, how
hard-worked, could come home and dress for dinner, it
would be a good habit. Indeed, if all American men,
like all English men, would show this attention to their
wives, society would be far more elegant. A man always
expects his wife to dress for him ; why should he not
dress for her? He is then ready for evening visits,
operas, parties, theatres, wherever he may wish to go.
No man should sit down to a seven o'clock dinner un-
less freshly dressed.

If Tilden can afford to keep a tilbury, or a dog-cart,
and fine horses, so miich the better for him. He can
take a young girl to drive, if her mamma consents ; but
a servant should sit behind ; that is indispensable. The
livery and the whole turnout should be elegant, but not
flashy, if Tilden would succeed. As true refinement
comes from within, let him read the noble description
of Thackeray : —

" What is it to be a gentleman ? Is it to be honest, to
be gentle, to be generous, to be true, to be brave, to be

CERTAIN PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. 385

wise, and possessing all these qualities to exercise them
in the most gentle manner? Ought a gentleman to be
a loyal son, a true husband, and honest father? Ought
his life to be decent, his bills to be paid, his tastes to
be high and elegant? Yes, a thousand times yes ! "

Young men who come to a great city to live are some-
times led astray by the success of gaudy adventurers who
do not fall within the lines of the above description,
men who get on by means of enormous impudence, self-
assurance, audacity, and plausible ways. But if they
have patience and hold to the right, the gentleman
will succeed, and the adventurer will fail. No such man
lasts long. Give him rope enough, and he will soon hang
himself.

It is not necessary here to refer to the etiquette of
clubs. They are self-protecting. A man soon learns
their rules and .Hmitations. A man of honesty and
character seldom gets into difficulty at his club. If his
club rejects or pronounces against him, however, it is a
social stigma which it is hard to wipe out.

A young man should lose no opportunity of improving
himself. Works of art are a fine means of instruction.
He should read and study in his leisure hours, and fre-
quent picture galleries and museums. A young man be-
comes the most agreeable of companions if he brings a
keen fresh intelligence, refined tastes, and a desire to
be agreeable into society. Success in society is like
electricity, — it makes itself felt, and yet is unseen and
indescribable.

It is a nice thing if a man has some accomplishment,
such as music or elocution, and to be a good dancer is
almost indispensable. Yet many a man gets on without
any of these.

25

386 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

It is a work-a-day world that we live in, and the
whole formation of our society betrays it. Then dress
plainly, simply, and without display. A gentleman's
servants often dress better than their master, and yet
nothing is so distinctive as the dress of a gentleman. It
is as much a costume of nobility as if it were the velvet
coat which Sir Walter Raleigh threw down before
Queen Elizabeth.

It may not be inappropriate here to say a word or two
on minor points. In addressing a note to a lady, whom
he does not know well, Tilden should use the third per-
son, as follows : —

Mr. Tilden presents his compliments to Mrs. Montgomery and
begs to know if she and Miss Montgomery will honor him with their
company at a theatre party in the evening of April 3d, at the Chest-
nut Street Theatre.

R. S. V. P. 117 South Market Place.

This note should be sealed with wax, impressed with
the writer's coat of arms or some favourite device, and
delivered by a private messenger who should wait for an
answer. In addressing a letter to a gentleman, the full
title should be used, — " Walter Tilden, Esq.," or, first
name not known, " Tilden, Esq.," never, " Mr. Wal-
ter Tilden." If it be an invitation, it is not etiquette to
say " Mister."

In writing in the first person, Tilden must not be too
familiar. He must make no elisions or contractions, but
fill out every word and line, as if it were a pleasure.

It is urged against us by foreigners, that the manners
of men toward women partake of the freedom of the
age ; that they are not sufficiently respectful. But, if
careless in manner, American men are the most chival-
rous at heart.

CERTAIN PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS. 387

At a ball a young man can ask a friend to present him
to a lady who is chaperoning a young girl, and through
her he can be presented to the young girl. No man
should, however, introduce another man without permis-
sion. If he is presented and asks the girl to dance, a
short walk is permitted before he returns his partner to
the side of the chaperon. But it is bad manners for
the young couple to disappear for a long time. No man
should go into a supper-room alone, or help himself while
ladies remain unhelped.

To get on in society involves so much that can never
be written down that any manual is of course imper-
fect; for no one can predict who will succeed and
who will fail. Bold and arrogant people — " cheeky "
people — succeed at first, modest ones in the long run.
It is a melancholy fact that the most objectionable per-
sons do get into fashionable society. It is to be feared
that the possession of wealth is more desired than the
possession of any other attribute ; that much is forgiven
in the rich man which would be rank heresy in the poor
one.

We would not, however, advise Tilden to choose his
friends from the worldly point simply, either of fashion
or wealth. He should try to find those who are well bred,
good, true, honourable, and generous. Wherever they
are, such people are always good society.

In the ranks of society we find sometimes the ideal
gentleman. Society may not have produced so good a
crop as it should have done ; yet its false aims have not
yet dazzled all men out of the true, the ideal breed-
ing. There are many clubs ; but there are some ad-
mirable Crichtons, — men who can think, read, study,
work, and stil\ be fashionable.

3S8 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

A man should go through the fierce fires of social com-
petition, and yet not be scorched. All men have not had
that fine, repressive training, which makes our navy and
army men such gentlemen. The breeding of the young-
men of fashion is not what their grandfathers would have
called good. They sometimes have a severe and bored
expression when called on to give up a selfish pleasure.
One asks, "Where are their manners?"

Breeding, cultivation, manners, must start from the
heart. The old saying that it takes three generations to
make a gentleman makes us ask. How many does it take
to unmake one ? Some young and well-born men seem
to be undoing the work of the three generations, and to
have inherited nothing of a great ancestor but his bad
manners. An American should have the best manners.
He has had nothing to crush him ; he is unacquainted with
patronage, which in its way makes snobs, and no one
loves a snob, least of all the man whom the snob
cultivates.

The word " gentleman " although one of the best in the
language, should not be used too much. Be a gentleman,
but talk about a man. A man avoids display and
cultivates simplicity, neatness, and fitness of things, if
he is both a man and a gentleman.

COMPARATIVE MERITS OF AMERICAN AND
FOREIGN MODES OF ENTERTAINING.

THERE is no better old saw in existence than that
comparisons are odious ; they are not only odious,
but they are nearly if not quite impossible. For instance,
if we compare a dinner in London with a dinner in New
York, we must say. Whose dinner? What dinner? If
we compare New York with Paris, we must say, What
Paris ? Shall we take the old Catholic aristocracy of the
Faubourg St. Germain, or the upstart social spheres of
the Faubourg St. Honore and the Chauss^e d'Antin?
Or shall we take Tout Paris, with its thousand ramifica-
tions, with its literary and artistic salons, the Tout Paris
mondain, the Tout Paris artiste, the Tout Paris des
Premieres, and all the rest of that heterogeneous crowd,
any fragment of which could swallow up the '' four
hundred," and all its works?

Shall we attempt to compare New York or Washington
with London, with its four millions, its Prince of Wales
set, its old and sober aristocracy of cultivated people,
whose ideas of refinement, culture, and of all the tra-
ditions of good society date back a thousand years?
Would it be fair, either, to attempt to say which part of
this vast congeries should be taken as the sample end,
and which part of America with its new civilization should
be compared with any or all of these ?

^gO THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

Therefore any thoughts which follow must be merely
apologized for, as the rapid observations of a traveller,
who, in seeing many countries, has loved her own the
best, and who puts down these fleeting impressions,
merely with a hope to benefit her own, even if sometimes
criticising it.

Twenty years ago, Justin McCarthy, than whom there
has been no better international critic, wrote an immortal
paper called, " English and American Women Com-
pared." It was perhaps the most complimentary, and
we are therefore bound to say the fairest, description of
our women ever given to the world. It came at a time
when the American girl was being served up by Ouida,
the American senator by Anthony Trollope, and the
American divorcee by Victorien Sardou, in " L'Oncle
Sam." There was never a moment when the American
needed a friend more.

In that gentle, yet pungent paper, Mr. McCarthy re-
fers to our extravagance, our love of display, our super-
ficial criticisms of the merits of English literary women,
judged from the standpoint of dress, and of a singular
underlying snobbery which he observed in a few, who
wished that the days of titles and of aristocratic customs
could come back to the land where Thomas Jefferson
tied his horse to the Capitol palings, when he went up to
take the Presidential oath. Since that paper was written
what a flood of prosperity has deluged the land ; what a
stride has been made in all the arts of entertaining !
What houses we possess ; what dinners we give !

What would Horace Walpole say, could he see the
collections of some of our really poor people, not to
mention those of our billionnaires ? Should he go out to
dinner in New York, the master of Strawberry Hill and

AMERICAN AND FOREIGN MODES. 39 1

the first great collector could see more curious old furni-
ture, more hawthorn vases, more antique teapots, more
rare silver, and more chiffons than he had ever dreamed
of; he could see the power which a young, vigorous
nation possesses when it takes a kangaroo trick of leap-
ing backward into antiquity, or forward into strange
countries, and what it can bring home from its constant
globe-trotting, in exchange for some of its own silver
and gold. He would also see the power Avhich art has
possessed over a nation so suddenly rich that one reads
with alarm the axiom of Taine, " When a nation has
reached its highest point of prosperity, and begins to de-
cay, then blossoms the consummate flower of art."

We need not go so far back as Horace Walpole ; it
even astonishes the collector of last year to find that he
must come to New York to buy back his Japanese
bronzes, and his Capo di Monte, his Majolica and peach-
blow vase. We may say that we have the oldest of arts,
that of entertaining, wrested from the hands of the oldest
of nations, and placed almost recklessly in the hands of
the youngest, — as one would take a delicate musical in-
strument from the hands of a master and put it in the
hands of a child. What wonder if in the first essay
some chords are missed, some discords struck? Then
we must remember that modern Hfe is passing, slowly
but decidedly, through a great revolution, now nearly
achieved. The relation of equality is gradually eclipsing
every other, — that of inequality, where it does survive,
taking on its least noble form, as most things do in their
decay. In Europe there is still deference to title,
although the real power of feudalism was broken by
Louis XI. Its shadow remains even in republican
France, where if a man has not a title he is apt to buy or

392 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

to steal one. On this side of the Atlantic there is a
deference paid to wealth, however obtained. This is a
much greater strain upon character, a more vulgar form
of snobbery than the reverence for title; for a title
means that sometime, no matter how long ago, some one
lived nobly and won his spurs.

We may therefore assume that the great necromancer
Prosperity, with his wand, luxury, has suddenly placed
our new nation, if not on a footing with the old, certainly
as a new knight in the field, whose prowess deserves that
he should be mentioned. Or, to change the metaphor,
we can imagine some spread-eagle orator comparing us
to a David who with his smooth stones from the brook,
dug up in California and Nevada, is giving all modern
Goliaths a crack in the forehead. When we come to
make a comparison, however, let us narrow this down to
the giving of a dinner in London, in distinction to giving
a dinner in any city in America, and see what our giant
can do.

London possesses a regular system of society, a social
citadel, around which rally those whose birth, title, and
character are all well-known. It is conscious of an iden-
tity of interest, which compacts its members, with the
force of cement, into a single corporation.

The queen and her drawing-room, the Prince of Wales
and his set, the royal family, the nobility and gentry,
what is called the aristocracy form a core to this apple,
and this central idea goes through all its juices.

Think what it must mean to a man to read that he is
descended from Harry Hotspur, Bolingbroke, Clarendon,
Sidney, Spenser, Cecil. Imagine what it must have been
to have known the men who daily gathered around the
tables of the famous dinner-givers. Imagine what the

AMERICAN AND FOREIGN MODES. 393

dinners at Holland House were, and then compare
such a dinner with one which any American could give.
And yet, improbable as it may seem, the American din-
ner might be the more amusing. The American dinner
would have far more flowers ; it would be in a brighter
room ; it would be more " talky," perhaps, — but it could
not be so well worth going to. In England, jn the
greater as well as in the simpler houses, there is a respect
for intellect, for intelligence, that we have not. It is the
fashion to invite the man or the woman who has done
something to meet the most worshipful company, and
the young countess just beginning to entertain would re-
ceive from her grandmother, who entertained Lord
Byron, this advice, " My dear, always have a literary
man, or an artist in your set."

The humblest literary man who has done anything
well is immediately sought out and is asked to dinner;
and the artist of merit, in music, painting, architecture,
literature, is sure of recognition in London. One is
almost always sure to see, at a grand dinner in London,
some quiet elderly woman, who receives the attention of
the most distinguished guests, and one learns that
she is Mrs. So-and-So, who has written a story, or a
few hymns.

In this respect for the best part of us, our brains,
the London dinner-giver has sho\vn his thousand years of
civilization ; he is playing the harp like a master.

To return for a moment to the criticism of Justin
McCarthy. He says in it, that while he admired the
American taste in dress, he could not admire a certain
confusion of mind, by which an otherwise kindly and
well-informed American woman misjudged a person who
preferred to go plain, or shabby, if you will. In fact, he

394 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

stood up for the right which every EngUsh woman will
claim as her own, " to be dowdy," if she will. The
Queen has taught her this. While the Princess of Wales,
the younger daughters of the Queen, and much of the
fashion of London dresses itself in Paris, and is conse-
quently very smart, there is still a class who look down
on clothes and consider them a small matter. Perhaps
that is the reason why such stringent regulations are laid
down for the court dress.

Magnificent, stately, and well-ordered, are the dinners
of London, — a countess at the head of the table, a
footman behind each chair, in great houses a very fine
dinner, and splendid pieces of plate, some old china,
pictures on the wall from the pencils of Rembrandt,
Rubens, Van Dyck, Gainsborough, and Sir Joshua.
Sweet, low-voiced, and well-bred are the women, with
beautiful necks, and shoulders, and fine heads. The
men are they who are doing the work of the world in the
House of Lords, the House of Commons, in Lidia, in
Egypt, in the Soudan ; there is a multiplicity of topics
of conversation. No English stiffness exists at the din-
ner, and there is always present some literary man or
woman, some famous artist as the piece de resistance ;
such are the dinners of London.

The luncheons are simpler, and here one is sure to
meet men advanced in thought, and women of ideas,
and there is no question as to the rent-roll. Wealth has
absolutely nothing to do with society success in London.

We might mention many a literary and artistic salon,
over which charming and fascinating, young and fashion-
able women preside with the mingled grace, which adds
a beauty and a meaning to Emerson's famous mot that
"fashion is funded politeness." We might mention

AMERICAN AND FOREIGN MODES. 39$

many a literary or artistic man or woman of London,
who is the favoured friend of these great ladies, who
would, if an American, never be asked to a luncheon at
Newport, or admitted to a ball at Delmonico's, because
he was not fashionable. It would not occur to the gay
entertainers to think that such a person would be
desirable.

Paris, as the land of the mot and the epigram, has
always had a great attraction for literary people. Car-
lyle said of England that it was composed of sixty
millions of people, mostly fools. His own experience as
a favoured guest at Lady Ashburton's, and other great
houses, ought to have modified his decision. In x\mer-
ica, the Carlyles would have been called '' queer," and
probably left out. In England, it is a recommendation
to be ''queer," original, thoughtful. In that bubble
which rises to the top, to which Mr. McAllister has given
the name " the four hundred," it is not a recommenda-
tion to be queer, original, or thoughtful.

That some men and women of genius have com-
manded success in society only proves the rule ; that
some people of fashion have become writers, and painters,
and poets, and have still kept their foothold, is only the
exception.

Charles Astor Bristed, born to fortune and fashion,
declared that what he gained in prestige in England by
becoming an author, he lost in America. What woman
of fashion goes out of her way to find the man of letters
who writes the striking editorials in a morning paper in
New York ? In London, a dozen coroneted notes await
such a lucky fellow. Perhaps the most curious instance
of the awkward handlmg of that rare and valuable instru-
ment, which we call the art of entertaining in America,

396 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

is the deliberate ignoring of the best element of a dinner
party, — the hitherto unknown, or the well-known man
of brains. This distinguishes our entertaining from that
of foreigners.

The best society we have in America is that at Wash-
ington; the President's house is the palace. He and
his ministers, and the judges of the Supreme Court, the
officers of the army and navy, are our aristocracy, — a
simple, unpretending one, but as real in its social laws
and organization as any in the world. And there intel-
tect reigns. The dinners at Washington, having a kind
of precedence, reinforced by intelligence, independent
of wealth, and regardless of the arbitrary rules of a self-
elected leadership, are the most agreeable in this coun-
try, if not in the world. We have said there are many
sorts of Paris, and so there are many sorts of America.
It must not be supposed that clever people do not get
together, and that there are not dinners of the brightest
and the best. Outside the " four hundred " there is a
group of fifty thousand or more, who have travelled,
thought, and read, experienced, and learned how to give
a good dinner, — a witty dinner.

I use the term " four hundred " as a convenient alias
for that for which Americans have no other name ; that
is, the particular reigning set in every city, every small
village. In Paris, republic as it is, there is still a very
decided aristocracy. There is the Duchesse Rochefau-
cauld Bisaccia, and the eccentric Duchesse d'Uzes, and
so on, who are decidedly the four hundred. There are
the very wealthy Jews, like the Rothschilds, who are
much to be commended for their recognition of the
supremacy of art and letters. They have become the
protectors of these classes commercially, and their intel-

AMERICAN AND FOREIGN MODES. 397

ligent wives have made their salons deHghtful, by bring-
ing in men of culture and talent. On Sundays the
Comtesse Potocka, who wears the best pearls in Paris,
tries to revive the traditions of the Hotel Rambouillet,
in her beautiful hotel in the Avenue Friedland. Her
guests are De Maupassant, Ratisbonne, Coquelin, the
painter B^rand, and other men of wit. The Baroness
de Poilly has a tendency to refine Bohemianism and
is an indefatigable pleasure seeker. The only people
she will not receive are the inanciers and the heavy-
witted. The Comtesse de Beaumont says that the key
to her house is "wit and intellect without regard to
party, caste, or school." Carolus Duran, Alphonse
Daudet, the painters, whoever is at the head of music,
literature, or the dramatic art, is welcomed there.

The princes of the House of Orleans, are most prom-
inent in their attentions to people of talent. The Prin-
cesse Mathilde has a house in the Rue de Berri full
of exquisite pictures by the old masters, and a few of
the modern school. Her salon is a model of comfort
and refined elegance, and at her Sunday receptions,
where one meets the world, are men distinguished in
diplomacy, art, and letters.

But what simple dinners, as to meat and drink, do any
of these great people give, compared to the dinners
which are given constantly in New York, — dinners which
are banquets, but to which the young litta-ateur or
painter would not be invited ! That is to say, in Lon-
don and in Paris the fashionable woman who would
make her party more fashionable, courts the literary and
artistic guild; as a guild, the fashionable woman in
America does not court them.

It may be said that this is an unfair presentation of

39^ THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

the case, because in London there may be patronage on
one side, while in America there is perfect equaUty, and
the literary man is a greater aristocrat than the fashion-
able woman who gives the party. This is in one sense
true, for the professions have all the honour here. The
journalists are often the men who give the party. The
witty lawyer is the most honoured guest everywhere ; so
are certain litth^ateu7's .

People who have become rich suddenly, who wish to
be leaders, to have gay, young, well-dressed guests at
their dinners, do not desire the company of any but
their own kind. Yet they try to emulate the dinners of
London, and are surprised when some English critic
finds their entertainments dull, flat, and unprofitable,
overloaded and vulgar. The same young, gay, rich
dancing set in London would have asked Robert Brown-
ing to the dinner, merely as a matter of fashion. And
it is this fashion which is commendable. It improves
society.

The social recognition of the dramatic profession is
not here what it is in England or France. There is no
Lady Burdett Coutts to take Mr. Irving off on her yacht.
No actor here has the social position which Mr. Irving
has in London. Who ever heard of society running after
Mr. John Gilbert, one of the most respectable men of
his profession, as well as a consummate actor?

In London, duchesses and countesses run after Mr.
Toole ; he is a darling of society. Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft
have done much to help their profession and themselves
by taking the initiative, and giving delightful little even-
ings. But it is vastly more common, to see many of the
leading actors and actresses in society in London than
in New York. Indeed, it is the custom abroad to ask,

AMERICAN AND FOREIGN MODES. 399

" what has he done, what can he do? " rather than, " how
much is he worth? " The actor is valued for what he is
doing. Perhaps our system of equahty is somewhat to
blame for this, and the woman of fashion may wait for
the dramatic artist to take the initiative and call on her.
but we know that any one who should urge this would
be talking nonsense. In our system of entertaining in
a gay city, it is the richest who reigns, and although there
are some people who can still boast a grandfather, it is
the new-comer who is the arbiter of fashion. Such a
person could, in London or Paris or Rome, merely as a
fashionable fad, invite the artist or the writer to make
her party complete. In America she would not do it,
unless the man of genius were a lion, a foreigner, a
novelty. Then she would do so, and perhaps run after
him too much.

And now, as we have been treating of a very small,
unimportant, and to the great American world, unknown
quantity, the reigning set in any city, let us look at the
matter from within. Have we individually considered
the merits of the festive plenty which crowns our table,
relatively to the selection of the company which is
gathered around it?

Have we in any of our cities those dejcunej's d^ esprit,
as in Paris, where certain witty women invite other
witty women to come and talk of the last new novel ?
Have we counted on that possible Utopia where men
and women meet and talk, to contribute of their best
thought to the entertaining? Have we many houses to
which we are asked to a banquet of wit? Are there
many opulent people who can say. The key to my house
is wit and intellect, and character, without regard to
party, caste or school? If such a house can be found,

400 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

its owner has, all other things being equal, conquered
the art of entertaining.

Now, all people of talent are not personages of soci-
ety. To be that, one must have good manners, know
how to dress one's self and respect the usages of society.
We should not like to meet Dr. Johnson at a ball, but it
is very rare to find people nowadays, however learned,
however retired, however gifted, who have discarded as
he did, the decencies of deportment. The far greater
evil of depriving society of its backbone should be
balanced against this lesser danger.

There are literary and artistic and academic salons
in Paris, which are the most interesting places to the
foreigner, which might be copied in every university
town of America, to the infinite advantage of society.
A fashionable young woman of Paris never misses these,
or the lectures, or her Thursday at the Comedie Fran-
gaise where she hears the classic plays of Moliere and
even Shakspeare. It makes her a very agreeable
talker, although her culture may not be very deep. She
is not a bit less particular as to the number of buttons
on her gloves, or the becomingness of her dress, be-
cause she has given a few hours to her mental develop-
ment. In America, we have thoughtful women, gifted
women, brilliant women, but we rarely have the combi-
nation which we see in France, of all this with fashion.

When this young and fashionable hostess gives a
dinner, or an evening, she invites Coquelin and some
of his witty compeers, and she talks over Moliere with
the men who understand him best.

It is possible that French littci-ateurs care more
for society than their American brothers. They go into
it more, and at splendid dinners in Paris I remember

AMERICAN AND FOREIGN MODES. 401

the writers for the " Figaro," as most desirable guests.
The presence of members of the French Academy, for
instance, is much courted, and as feminine influence
plays a considerable role in the Academy elections, it
is advisable for playwrights, novelists, and aspiring writ-
ers generally to cultivate influential relations with a view
to the future. However this may be, literature and art
are more highly honoured socially in Paris than in xA.mer-
ica, and men of letters lead a very joyous existence, din-
ing and being dined, and making a dinner delightfully
brilliant.

The artists of Paris have become such magnates, liv-
ing in sumptuous houses and giving splendid fetes, that
it is hardly possible to speak of their being left out ; they
are mostly agreeable men, — Carolus Duran and Bonnat
especially. But painters, especially portrait painters,
are always favourites in all fashionable society.

The French women talk much about being in the
"movement" which to the American ear may be trans-
lated the "swim." They follow every picture exhibi-
tion, can quote from the " Figaro " what is going on, they
criticise the last play, the last new novel, they do much
hard work, but they seek out and honour the man of
brains, known or unknown, who has made a fine play or
novel.

Every woman in America may take a lesson in enter-
taining from the old world, and strive to combine this
respect for both conditions, the luxury which feeds, and
the brain which illuminates. A house should be at once
a pleasure and a force, — a force to sustain the struggling,
as well as a pleasure to the prosperous.

A merely sumptuous buffet, a check sent to Del-
monico for a "heavy feed" does not master that

26

402 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

great art, which has illuminated the noblest chapters in
the history of our race, and led to the most complete
improvement in the continuous development of man-
kind. Without each other we become savages, with the
conquering of the art of entertaining we reach the
highest triumphs of civilization.

It is a progressive art, while those that we have wor-
shipped stand still. No architect of our day, even when
revealing the inner conceit which cynics say possesses all
minds, would hope to surpass the builders of the Parthe-
non, no carver of marble hopes to reach Phidias, no
painter dares to measure his brush with Raphael, Titian,
or Velasquez. " In Asia art has been declining for ages ;
the Moor of Fez would hardly recognize what his race
did in Granada ; the Indian Mussulman gazes at the
Pearl Mosque as if the genii had built it ; the Persians
buy their own old carpets ; and the Japanese confess,
with a sigh, that their own old ceramic work cannot be
equalled now." In all art there is '' despair of advance,"
except in the art of entertaining.

That is always new and always progressive ; there is
no end to the originality which may be brought to bear
upon it. This rule should be constantly enforced. A
hostess must take pains and trouble to give her house a
colour, an originality, and a type of its own. She must
put brains into her entertaining.

We have begun this little book, somewhat bumptiously
perhaps, with an account of our physical resources. Let
us pursue the same strain as to our mental wealth. We
have not only witty after-dinner speakers — in that, let
no country hope to rival us — amongst our lawyers,
journalists, and literary men, but we have our clergy. It
would be difficult to find any hamlet in the United States

AMERICAN AND FOREIGN MODES. 403

where there is not one agreeable clergyman, more often
three or four.

The best addition to a company is an accomplished
divine, who knows that his mission is for two worlds.
He need not be any the less the ambassador to the next,
of which we know so little, because he is a pleasant resi-
dent and improver of this world, of which many of us
feel that we know quite enough. The position of a pop-
ular clergyman is a peculiar and a dangerous one, for he
is expected to be merry with one, and sad with another,
at all hours of the day. Next to the doctor, we confide
in him, and the call on his sympathies might well make a
man doubtful whether any of his emotions are his own.

But the scholarship, the communing with high ideas,
the relationship to his flock, all tend to the formation of
that type of man which we call the agreeable, and
America is extremely rich in this eminent aid to the art
of entertaining. As a Roman Catholic bishop once
observed, " As a part of my duty, I must make myself
agreeable in society; " and so must every clergyman.

And to say truth, we have few examples of a disagree-
able clergyman. While his cloth surrounds him with
reverence and respect, his fertile brain, ready wit, and
cheerful co-operation in the pleasure of the moment,
will be like a finer education and a purifying atmosphere.
From the days of Chrysostom to Sydney Smith the clergy
should be known as the golden-mouthed. The American
mind, brilliant, rapid, and clear, the American speech,
voluble, ready, and replete, the talent for repartee, rapier-
like with so many of our orators, and the quick wit
which seems to be born of our oxygen, all this, added to
the remarkable beauty and tact of our women, of which
gU the world is talking, and which the young aristocrats

404 THE ART OF ENTERTAINING.

of the old world seem to be quite willing to appropriate,
makes splendid provision for a dinner, a reception, an
afternoon tea, or a ball.

We sometimes hear complaints of the insufficiency of
society, and that our best men will not go into it. If
there is such an insufficiency, it is because we have too
much sufficiency, we are struggling with the overplus,
often as great an embarrassment as the too little. It is
somebody's fault if we have not learned to play on this
*'harp of a thousand strings."

We need not heed the criticism of the world, snob-
bishly ; we are a great nation, and can afford to make our
own laws. But we should ask of ourselves the question,
whether or not we are too lavish, too fond of display, too
much given to overfeeding, too fond of dress, too much
concerned with the outside of things ; we should take the
best ideas of all nations in regard to the progressive art,
the art of entertaining.

THE END.